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HE    WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD 


BY 

SUSAN   WARNER 

AUTHOR  OF  M  OUEECHY,"  "  DOLLARS  AND  CENTS,"  ETC* 


VOL.   I 


m 


NEW   YORK 

HURST  AND   COMPANY 

Publishers 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


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THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Enjoy  .the  spring  of  love  and  youth, 
To  some  good  angel  leave  the  rest. 
For  time  will  teach  thee  soon  the  truth, 

"  There  are  no  birds  in  last  year's  nest." 

Longfsllow, 

"  Mamma,  what  was  that  I  heard  papa  saying  to 
you  this  morning  about  his  lawsuit  ? " 

"  1  cannot  tell  you  just  now.  Ellen,  pick  up 
that  shawl,  and  spread  it  over  me." 

"  Mamma  ! — are  you  cold  in  this  warm  room  ?  " 

"  A  little, — there,  that  will  do.  Now,  my  daughter, 
let  me  be  quiet  awhile — don't  disturb  me." 

There  was  no  one  else  in  the  room.  Driven 
thus  to  her  own  resources,  Ellen  betook  herself  to 
the  window  and  sought  amusement  there.  The 
prospect  without  gave  little  promise  of  it.  Rain 
was  falling,  and  made  the  street  and  everything  in 
it  look  dull  and  gloomy.  The  foot-passengers 
plashed  through  the  water,  and  the  horses  and  car* 
riages  plashed  through  the  mud  ;  gayety  had  for- 
saken the  sidewalks,  and  equipages  were  few,  and 
the  people  that  were  out  were  plainly  there  only 
because  they  could  not  help  it.  But  yet  Ellen, 
having  seriously  set  herself  to  study  everything 
Jthat    passed,  presently  became    engaged    in    her 


4.  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

occupation  ;  and  her  thoughts  traveling  dreamHy 
from  one  thing  to  another,  she  sat  for  a  long  time 
with  her  little  face  pressed  against  the  window- 
frame,  perfectly  regardless  of  all  but  the  moving 
World  without. 

Daylight  gradually  faded  away,  and  the  street 
Wore  a  more  and  more  gloomy  aspect.  The  rain 
poured,  and  now  only  an  occasional  carriage  or 
footstep  disturbed  the  sound  of  its  steady  pattering. 
Yet  still  Ellen  sat  with  her  face  glued  to  the  window 
as  if  spell-bound,  gazing  out  at  every  dusky  form 
that  passed,  as  though  it  had  some  strange  interest 
for  her.  At  length,  in  the  distance,  light  after  light 
began  to  appear  ;  presently  Ellen  could  see  the  dim 
figure  of  the  lamplighter  crossing  the  street,  from 
side  to  side,  with  his  ladder  ; — then  he  drew  near 
enough  for  her  to  watch  him  as  he  hooked  his 
ladder  on  the  lamp-irons,  ran  up  and  lit  the  lamp, 
then  shouldered  the  ladder  and  marched  off  quick, 
the  light  glancing  on  his  wet  oil-skin  hat,  rough 
great-coat  and  lantern,  and  on  the  pavement  and 
rron  railings.  The  veriest  moth  could  not  have 
followed  the  light  with  more  perseverance  than  did 
Ellen's  eyes — till  the  lamplighter  gradually  dis- 
appeared from  view,  and  the  last  lamp  she  could 
see  was  lit ;  and  not  till  then  did  it  occur  to  her 
that  there  was  such  a  place  as  in-doors.  She  took 
her  face  from  the  window.  The  room  was  dark 
and  cheerless ;  and  Ellen  felt  stiff  and  chilly. 
However,  she  made  her  way  to  the  fire,  and  having 
found  the  poker,  she  applied  it  gently  to  the  Liver- 
pool coal  with  such  good  effect  that  a  bright  ruddy 
blaze  sprang  up,  and  lighted  the  whole  room. 
Ellen  smiled  at  the  result  of  her  experiment.    "  Tha* 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  5 

is  something  like,"  said  she  to  herself  :  "  who  says 
I  can't  poke  the  fire  ?  Now,  let  us  see  if  I  can't 
do  something  else.  Do  but  see  how  those  chairs 
are  standing — one  would  think  we  had  had  a  sew- 
ing-circle here — there,  go  back  to  your  places,— 
that  looks  a  little  better  ;  now  these  curtains  must 
come  down,  and  I  may  as  well  shut  the  shutters  too 
— and  now  this  table-cloth  must  be  content  to  hang 
straight,  and  mamma's  box  and  the  books  must  lie 
in  their  places,  and  not  all  helter-skelter. — Now,  I 
wish  mamma  would  wake  up  ;  I  should  think  she 
might.  I  don't  believe  she  is  asleep  either — she 
don't  look  as  if  she  was." 

Ellen  was  right  in  this  ;  her  mother's  face  did 
not  wear  the  look  of  sleep,  nor  indeed  of  repose  at 
all ;  the  lips  were  compressed,  and  the  brow  not 
calm.  To  try,  however,  whether  she  was  asleep  or 
no,  and  with  the  half-acknowledged  intent  to  rouse 
her  at  all  events,  Ellen  knelt  down  by  her  side, 
and  laid  her  face  close  to  her  mother's  on  the  pil- 
low. But  this  failed  to  draw  either  word  or  sign. 
After  a  minute  or  two  Ellen  tried  stroking  her 
mother's  cheek  very  gently  ; — and  this  succeeded, 
for  Mrs.  Montgomery  arrested  the  little  hand  as  it 
passed  her  lips,  and  kissed  it  fondly  two  or  three 
times. 

"  I  haven't  disturbed  you,  mamma,  have  I  ?  " 
said  Ellen. 

Without  replying,  Mrs.  Montgomery  raised  her- 
self to  a  sitting  posture,  and  lifting  both  hands  to 
her  face,  pushed  back  the  hair  from  her  forehead 
and  temples,  with  a  gesture  which  Ellen  knew 
meant  that  she  was  making  up  her  mind  to  some 
disagreeable  or  painful  effort.      Then  taking  both 


6  THE   WIDE,   V/IDE   WORLD. 

Ellen's  hands,  as  she  still  knelt  before  her,  she 
gazed  in  her  face  with  a  look  even  more  fond  than 
usual,  Ellen  thought,  but  much  sadder  too  ;  though 
Mrs.  Montgomery's  cheerfulness  had  always  been 
of  a  serious  kind. 

"  What  question  was  that  you  were  asking  me  a 
while  ago,  my  daughter  ? " 

"  I  thought,  mamma,  I  heard  papa  telling  you 
this  morning,  or  yesterday,  that  he  had  lost  that 
lawsuit." 

"  You  heard  right,  Ellen, — he  has  lost  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Montgomery,  sadly. 

"  Are  you  sorry,  mamma  ? — does  it  trouble  you  ?  " 

"  You  know,  my  dear,  that  I  am  not  apt  to  con- 
cern myself  overmuch  about  the  gain  or  the  loss  of 
money.  I  believe  my  Heavenly  Father  will  give 
me  what  is  good  for  me." 

"Then,  mamma,  why  are  you  troubled  ?" 

"  Because,  my  child,  I  cannot  carry  out  this 
principle  in  other  matters,  and  leave  quietly  my  all 
in  His  hands." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  mother  ?  What  makes 
you  look  so  ? '' 

"  This  lawsuit,  Ellen,  has  brought  upon  us  more 
trouble  than  I  ever  thought  a  lawsuit  could— the 
loss  of  it,  I  mean." 

"  How,  mamma  ?  " 

"  It  has  caused  an  entire  change  of  all  our  plans. 
Your  father  says  he  is  too  poor  now  to  stay  here 
any  longer  ;  and  he  has  agreed  to  go  soon  on  some 
government  or  military  business  to  Europe." 

"  Well,  mamma,  that  is  bad,  but  he  has  been 
away  a  great  deal  before,  and  I  am  sure  we  were 
always  very  happy  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,    WIDE    WORLD.  7 

"  But,  Ellen,  he  thinks  now,  and  the  doctor  thinks 
too,  that  it  is  very  important  for  my  health  that  I 
should  go  with  him." 

"  Does  he  mamma  ? — and  do  you  mean  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must,  my  dear  child." 

"  Not,  and  leave  me,  mother  ?  " 

The  imploring  look  of  mingled  astonishment, 
terror,  and  sorrow  with  which  Ellen  uttered  these 
words,  took  from  her  mother  all  power  of  replying. 
It  was  not  necessary;  her  little  daughter  under- 
stood only  too  well  the  silent  answer  of  her  eye. 
With  a  wild  cry  she  flung  her  arms  round  her 
mother,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  lap,  gave  way 
to  a  violent  burst  of  grief  that  seemed  for  a  few 
moments  as  if  it  would  rend  soul  and  body  in 
twain.  For  her  passions  were  by  nature  very 
strong,  and  by  education  very  imperfectly  con- 
trolled; and  time,  "that  rider  that  breaks  youth," 
had  not  as  yet  tried  his  hand  upon  her.  And  Mrs. 
Montgomery,  in  spite  of  the  fortitude  and  calmness 
to  which  she  had  steeled  herself,  bent  down  over 
her,  and  folding  her  arms  about  her,  yielded  to 
sorrow  deeper  still,  and  for  a  little  while  scarcely 
less  violent  in  its  expression  than  Ellen's  own. 

Alas  !  she  had  too  good  reason.  She  knew  that 
the  chance  of  her  ever  returning  to  shield  the  little 
creature  who  was  nearest  her  heart  from  the  future 
evils  and  snares  of  life  was  very,  very  small.  She 
had  at  first  absolutely  refused  to  leave  Ellen,  when 
her  husband  proposed  it ;  declaring  that  she  would 
rather  stay  with  her  and  die  than  take  the  chance 
of  recovery  at  such  a  cost.  But  her  physician  as- 
sured her  she  could  not  live  long  without  a  change 
of  climate  ;  Captain  Montgomery  urged  that  it  was 


8  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

better  to  submit  to  a  temporary  separation,  than  to 
cling  obstinately  to  her  child  for  a  few  months  and 
then  leave  her  forever  ;  said  he  must  himself  go 
speedily  to  France,  and  that  now  was  her  best  op- 
portunity ;  assuring  her,  however,  that  his  circum- 
stances would  not  permit  him  to  take  Ellen  along, 
but  that  she  would  be  secure  of  a  happy  home  with 
his  sister  during  her  mother's  absence  ;  and  to  the 
pressure  of  argument  Captain  Montgomery  added 
the  weight  of  authority — insisting  on  her  compli- 
ance. Conscience  also  asked  Mrs.  Montgomery 
whether  she  had  a  right  to  neglect  any  chance  of  life 
that  was  offered  her ;  and  at  last  she  yielded  to  the 
combined  influence  of  motives  no  one  of  which 
would  have  had  power  sufficient  to  move  her  ;  and 
though  with  a  secret  consciousness  it  would  be  in 
vain,  she  consented  to  do  as  her  friends  wished. 
And  it  was  for  Ellen's  sake  she  did  it  after  all. 

Nothing  but  necessity  had  given  her  the  courage 
to  open  the  matter  to  her  little  daughter.  She  had 
foreseen  and  endeavored  to  prepare  herself  for 
Ellen's  anguish  ;  but  nature  was  too  strong  for  her, 
and  they  clasped  each  other  in  a  convulsive  em- 
brace while  tears  fell  like  rain. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  Mrs.  Montgomery 
recollected  herself,  and  then,  though  she  struggled 
hard,  she  could  not  immediately  regain  her  com- 
posure. But  Ellen's  deep  sobs  at  length  fairly 
alarmed  her  ;  she  saw  the  necessity,  for  both 
their  sakes,  of  putting  a  stop  to  this  state  of 
violent  excitement  ;  self-command  was  restored 
at  once. 

"Ellen!  Ellen!  listen  to  me,"  she  said ;  "my 
child, — this  is  not  right.      Remember,  my  darling, 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  9 

who  it  is  that  brings  this  sorrow  upon  us — though 
we  must  sorrow,  we  must  not  rebel." 

Ellen  sobbed  more  gently ;  but  that  and  the  mute 
pressure  of  her  arms  was  her  only  answer. 

"  You  will  hurt  both  yourself  and  me,  my  daughter, 
if  you  cannot  command  yourself.  Remember,  dear 
Ellen,  God  sends  no  trouble  upon  His  children  but 
in  love  ;  and  though  we  cannot  see  how,  He  will 
no  doubt  make  all  this  work  for  our  good." 

"  I  know  it,  dear  mother,"  sobbed  Ellen,  "  but 
it's  just  as  hard  !  " 

Mrs.  Montgomery's  own  heart  answered  so 
readily  to  the  truth  of  Ellen's  words  that  for  the 
moment  she  could  not  speak. 

"  Try,  my  daughter,"  she  said  after  a  pause, — 
"  try  to  compose  yourself.  I  am  afraid  you  will 
make  me  worse,  Ellen,  if  you  cannot, — I  am  in- 
deed." 

Ellen  had  plenty  of  faults,  but  amidst  them  all 
love  to  her  mother  was  the  strongest  feeling  her 
heart  knew.  It  had  power  enough  now  to  move 
her  as  nothing  else  could  have  done  ;  and  exerting 
all  her  self-command,  of  which  she  had  sometimes 
a  good  deal,  she  did  calm  herself  ;  ceased  sobbing ; 
wiped  her  eyes  ;  arose  from  her  crouching  posture, 
and  seating  herself  on  the  sofa  by  her  mother,  and 
laying  her  head  on  her  bosom,  she  listened  quietly 
to  all  the  soothing  words  and  cheering  considerations 
with  which  Mrs.  Montgomery  endeavored  to  lead 
her  to  take  a  more  hopeful  view  of  the  subject. 
All  she  could  urge,  however,  had  but  very  partial 
success,  though  the  conversation  was  prolonged 
far  into  the  evening,     Ellen  said  little,  and  did  not 


IO  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

weep   any  more ;  but  in   secret  her  heart  refused 
consolation. 

Long  before  this  the  servant  had  brought  in  the 
tea-things.  Nobody  regarded  it  at  the  time,  but 
the  little  kettle  hissing  away  on  the  fire  now  by 
chance  attracted  Ellen's  attention,  and  she  suddenly 
recollected  her  mother  had  had  no  tea.  To  make 
her  mother's  tea  was  Ellen's  regular  business.  She 
treated  it  as  a  very  grave  affair,  and  loved  it  as  one 
of  the  pleasantest  in  the  course  of  the  day.  She 
used  in  the  first  place  to  make  sure  that  the  kettle 
really  boiled  ;  then  she  carefully  poured  some  water 
into  the  tea-pot  and  rinsed  it,  both  to  make  it  clean 
and  to  make  it  hot ;  then  she  knew  exactly  how 
much  tea  to  put  into  the  tiny  little  tea-pot,  which 
was  just  big  enough  to  hold  two  cups  of  tea,  and 
having  poured  a  very  little  boiling  water  to  it,  she 
used  to  set  it  by  the  side  of  the  fire  while  she  made 
half  a  slice  of  toast.  How  careful  Ellen  was  about 
that  toast !  The  bread  must  not  be  cut  too  thick, 
nor  too  thin  ;  the  fire  must,  if  possible,  burn  clear 
and  bright,  and  she  herself  held  the  bread  on  a 
fork,  just  at  the  right  distance  from  the  coals  to  get 
nicely  browned  without  burning.  When  this  was 
done  to  her  satisfaction  (and  if  the  first  piece  failed 
she  would  take  another),  she  filled  up  the  little  tea- 
pot from  the  boiling  kettle,  and  proceeded  to  make 
a  cup  of  tea.  She  knew,  and  was  very  careful  to 
put  in,  just  the  quantity  of  milk  and  sugar  that  her 
-.nother  liked  ;  and  then  she  used  to  carry  the  tea 
and  toast  on  a  little  tray  to  her  mother's  side,  and 
very  often  held  it  there  for  her  while  she  ate.  All 
this  Ellen  did  with  the  zeal  that  love  gives,  and 
though  the  same  thing  was  to  be  gone  over  every 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  n 

night  of  the  year,  she  was  never  wearied.  It  was 
a  real  pleasure ;  she  had  the  greatest  satisfaction 
in  seeing  that  the  little  her  mother  could  eat  was 
prepared  for  her  in  the  nicest  possible  manner  ;  she 
knew  her  hands  made  it  taste  better ;  her  mother 
often  said  so. 

But  this  evening  other  thoughts  had  driven  this 
important  business  quite  out  of  poor  Ellen's  mind. 
Now,  however,  when  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  little 
kettle,  she  recollected  her  mother  had  not  had  her 
tea,  and  must  want  it  very  much  ;  and  silently  slip- 
ping off  the  sofa,  she  set  about  getting  it  as  usual. 
There  was  no  doubt  this  time  whether  the  kettle 
boiled  or  no ;  it  had  been  hissing  for  an  hour  or 
more,  calling  as  loud  as  it  could  to  somebody  to 
come  and  make  the  tea.  So  Ellen  made  it,  and 
then  began  the  toast.  But  she  began  to  think  too, 
as  she  watched  it,  how  few  more  times  she  would 
be  able  to  do  so — how  soon  her  pleasant  tea-mak- 
ings would  be  over — and  the  desolate  feeling  of 
separation  began  to  come  upon  her  before  the  time. 
These  thoughts  were  too  much  for  poor  Ellen  ;  the 
thick  tears  gathered  so  fast  she  could  not  see  what 
she  was  doing;  and  she  had  no  more  than  just 
turned  the  slice  of  bread  on  the  fork  when  the  sick- 
ness of  heart  quite  overcame  her ;  she  could  not  go 
on.  Toast  and  fork  and  all  dropped  from  her  hand 
into  the  ashes  ;  and  rushing  to  her  mother's  side, 
who  was  now  lying  down  again,  and  throwing  her- 
self upon  her,  she  burst  into  another  fit  of  sorrow 
— not  so  violent  as  the  former,  but  with  a  touch 
of  hopelessness  in  it  which  went  yet  more  to  her 
mother's  heart.  Passion  in  the  first  said,  "  I  can- 
not ; "  despair  now  seemed  to  say,  "  I  must." 


12  THE   WIDE  WIDE   WORLD. 

But  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  too  exhausted  to 
either  share  or  soothe  Ellen's  agitation.  She  lay 
in  suffering  silence  ;  till  after  some  time  she  said, 
faintly,  "  Ellen,  my  love,  I  cannot  bear  this  much 
longer." 

Ellen  was  immediately  brought  to  herself  by 
these  words.  She  arose,  sorry  and  ashamed  that 
she  should  have  given  occasion  for  them  ;  and 
tenderly  kissing  her  mother,  assured  her  most  sin- 
cerely and  resolutely  that  she  would  not  do  so 
again.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  calm  enough  to 
finish  making  the  tea,  and  having  toasted  another 
piece  of  bread,  she  brought  it  to  her  mother.  Mrs. 
Montgomery  swallowed  a  cup  of  tea,  but  no  toast 
could  be  eaten  that  night. 

Both  remained  silent  and  quiet  awhile  after  this, 
till  the  clock  struck  ten.  "  You  had  better  go  to 
bed,  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  I  will,  mamma." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  read  me  a  little  before 
you  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mamma  ;  "  and  Ellen  brought  the 
book ;  "  where  shall  I  read  ? " 

"  The  twenty-third  psalm." 

Ellen  began  it,  and  went  through  it  steadily  and 
tlowly,  though  her  voice  quavered  a  little. 

"  *  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want. 

"  '  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures ; 
He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 

"  '  He  restoreth  my  soul :  He  leadeth  me  in  the 
path  of  righteousness  for  His  name's  sake. 

"  '  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  T  will  fear  no  evil  ;  for  Thou  art 
with  me  ;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff  they  comfort  me. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  13 

" '  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  pres- 
ence of  mine  enemies  :  Thou  anointest  my  head 
with  oil ;  my  cup  runneth  over. 

"  l  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 
all  the  days  of  my  life;  and  I  will  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  for  ever.'  " 

Long  before  she  had  finished  Ellen's  eyes  were 
full,  and  her  heart  too.  "  If  I  only  could  feel  these 
words  as  mamma  does  !  "  she  said  to  herself.  She 
did  not  dare  look  up  till  the  traces  of  tears  had 
passed  away ;  then  she  saw  that  her  mother  was 
asleep.  Those  first  sweet  words  had  fallen  like 
balm  upon  the  sore  heart ;  and  mind  and  body  had 
instantly  found  rest  together. 

Ellen  breathed  the  lightest  possible  kiss  upon 
her  forehead,  and  stole  quietly  out  of  the  room  to 
her  own  little  bed. 


CHAPTER    II. 

Not  all  the  whispers  that  the  soft  winds  utter 

Speak  earthly  things — 
There  mingle th  there,  sometimes,  a  gentle  flutter 

Of  angel's  wings. 

Amy  Lathrop. 

Sorrow  and  excitement  made  Ellen's  eyelids 
heavy,  and  she  slept  late  on  the  following  morning. 
The  great  dressing-bell  waked  her.  She  started 
up  with  a  confused  notion  that  something  was  the 
matter  ;  there  was  a  weight  on  her  heart  that  was 
very  strange  to  it.  A  moment  was  enough  to  bring 
it  all  back ;  and  she  threw  herself  again  on  her 
pillow,  yielding  helplessly  to  the  grief  she  had  twice 
been  obliged  to  control  the  evening  before.     Yet 


14  THE   WIDE    WIDE   WORLD. 

love  was  stronger  than  grief  still,  and  she  was  care- 
ful to  allow  no  sound  to  escape  her  that  could  reach 
the  ears  of  her  mother,  who  slept  in  the  next  room, 
Her  resolve  was  firm  to  grieve  her  no  more  with 
useless  expressions  of  sorrow  ;  to  keep  it  to  herself 
as  much  as  possible.  But  this  very  thought  that  she 
must  keep  it  to  herself  gave  an  edge  to  poor  Ellen's 
grief,  and  the  convulsive  clasp  of  her  little  arms 
round  the  pillow  plainly  showed  that  it  needed 
none. 

The  breakfast-bell  again  startled  her,  and  she 
remembered  she  must  not  be  too  late  downstairs, 
or  her  mother  might  inquire  and  find  out  the  reason. 
"  I  will  not  trouble  mother — I  will  not — I  will  not," 
she  resolved  to  herself  as  she  got  out  of  bed,  though 
the  tears  fell  faster  as  she  said  so.  Dressing  was 
sad  work  to  Ellen  to-day  ;  it  went  on  very  heavily. 
Tears  dropped  into  the  water  as  she  stooped  her 
head  to  the  basin ;  and  she  hid  her  face  in  the 
towel  to  cry,  instead  of  making  the  ordinary  use  of 
it.  But  the  usual  duties  were  dragged  through  at 
last,  and  she  went  to  the  window.  "  I'll  not  go 
down  till  papa  is  gone,"  she  thought,  "  he'll  ask  me 
what  is  the  matter  with  my  eyes." 

Ellen  opened  the  window.  The  rain  was  over ; 
the  lovely  light  of  a  fair  September  morning  was 
beautifying  everything  it  shone  upon.  Ellen  had 
been  accustomed  to  amuse  herself  a  good  deal  at 
this  window,  though  nothing  was  to  be  seen  from 
it  but  an  ugly  city  prospect  of  back  walls  of  houses, 
with  the  yards  belonging  to  them,  and  a  bit  of  nar- 
row street.  But  she  had  watched  the  people  that 
showed  themselves  at  the  windows,  and  the  chil- 
dren that  played  in  the  yards,  and  the  women  that 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  15 

went  to  the  pumps,  till  she  had  become  pretty  well 
acquainted  with  the  neighborhood  :  and  though 
they  were  for  the  most  part  dingy,  dirty,  and  dis- 
agreeable— women,  children,  houses,  and  all — she 
certainly  had  taken  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  their 
proceedings.  It  was  all  gone  now.  She  could  not 
bear  to  look  at  them ;  she  felt  as '  if  it  made  her 
sick ;  and  turning  away  her  eyes,  she  lifted  them 
to  the  bright  sky  above  her  head,  and  gazed  into 
its  clear  depth  of  blue  till  she  almost  forgot  that 
there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  city  in  the  world. 
Little  white  clouds  were  chasing  across  it,  driven  by 
the  fresh  wind  that  was  blowing  away  Ellen's  hair 
from  her  face,  and  cooling  her  hot  cheeks.  That 
wind  could  not  have  been  long  in  coming  from 
the  place  of  woods  and  flowers,  it  was  so  sweet  still. 
Ellen  looked  till,  she  didn't  know  why,  she  felt 
calmed  and  soothed, — as  if  somebody  was  saying  to 
her  softly,  "  Cheer  up,  my  child,  cheer  up  ; — things 
are  not  as  bad  as  they  might  be  : — things  will  be 
better."  Her  attention  was  attracted  at  length  by 
voices  below ;  she  looked  down,  and  saw  there,  in 
one  of  the  yards,  a  poor  deformed  child,  whom  she 
had  often  noticed  before,  and  always  with  sorrow- 
ful interest.  Besides  his  bodily  infirmity,  he  had  a 
further  claim  on  her  sympathy,  in  having  lost  his 
mother  within  a  few  months.  Ellen's  heart  was 
easily  touched  this  morning  ;  she  felt  for  him  very 
much.  "  Poor,  poor  little  '  fellow  !  "  she  thought ; 
"  he's  a  great  deal  worse  off  than  I  am.  His 
mother  is  dead  ;  mine  is  only  going  away  for  a  few5 
months — not  forever — oh,  what  a  difference  !  and 
then  the  joy  of  coming  back  again  !  " — poor  Ellen 
was  weeping  already  at  the   thought — "  and  I  will 


16  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

do,  oh,  how  much  !  while  she  is  gone — I'll  do  more 
than  she  can  possibly  expect  from  me — I'll  astonish 
her — I'll  delight  her — I'll  work  harder  than  ever  I 
did  in  my  life  before — I'll  mend  all  my  faults,  and 
give  her  so  much  pleasure  !  But  oh  !  if  she  only 
needn't  go  away  !  Oh,  mamma  !  "  Tears  of  mingled 
sweet  and  bitter  were  poured  out  fast,  but  the  bitter 
had  the  largest  share. 

The  breakfast-table  was  still  standing,  and  her 
father  gone,  when  Ellen  went  downstairs.  Mrs. 
Montgomery  welcomed  her  with  her  usual  quiet 
smile,  and  held  out  her  hand.  Ellen  tried  to  smile 
in  answer,  but  she  was  glad  to  hide  her  face  in  her 
mother's  bosom  ;  and  the  long  close  embrace  was 
too  close  and  too  long ; — it  told  of  sorrow  as  well 
as  love ;  and  tears  fell  from  the  eyes  of  each  that 
the  other  did  not  see. 

"  Need  I  go  to  school  to-day,  mamma  ?  "  whis- 
pered Ellen. 

"  No  ;  I  spoke  to  your  father  about  that ;  you 
shall  not  go  any  more ;  we  will  be  together  now 
while  we  can." 

Ellen  wanted  to  ask  how  long  that  would  be,  but 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  it. 

"  Sit  down,  daughter,  and  take  some  breakfast." 

"  Have  you  done,  mamma  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  waited  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  mamma,"  with  another  em- 
brace, "  how  good  you  are  ;  but  I  don't  think  I 
want  any." 

They  drew  their  chairs  to  the  table,  but  it  was 
plain  neither  had  much  heart  to  eat  ;  although  Mrs. 
Montgomery  with  her  own  hands  laid  on  Ellen's  plate 
half  of  the  little  bird  that  had  been  broiled  for  her 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  17 

own  breakfast.     The  half  was  too  much  for  each 
of  them. 

'*  What  made  you  so  late  this  morning,  daughter  ? " 

"  I  got  up  late,  in  the  first  place,  mamma  ;  and 
then  I  was  a  long  time  at  the  window." 

"  At  the  window  !  were  you  examining  into  your 
neighbor's  affairs  as  usual  ? "  said  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery, surprised  that  it  should  have  been  so. 

"  Oh,  no,  mamma,  I  didn't  look  at  them  at  all — 
except  poor  little  Billy  ; — I  was  looking  at  the  sky." 

"  And  what  did  you  see  there  that  pleased  you 
so  much  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  mamma ;  it  looked  so  lovely  and 
peaceful — that  pure  blue  spread  over  my  head,  and 
the  little  white  clouds  flying  across  it — I  loved  to 
look  at  it ;  it  seemed  to  do  me  good." 

"  Could  you  look  at  it,  Ellen,  without  thinking  of 
Him  who  made  it  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  ceasing  her  break- 
fast, and  now  speaking  with  difficulty  ;  "  I  did  think 
of  Him ;  perhaps  that  was  the  reason." 

"  And  what  did  you  think  of  Him,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  hoped,  mamma — I  felt — I  thought — He  would 
take  care  of  me,"  said  Ellen,  bursting  into  tears, 
and  throwing  her  arms  again  round  her  mother. 

"  He  will,  my  dear  daughter,  He  will  if  you  will 
only  put  your  trust  in  Him,  Ellen." 

Ellen  struggled  hard  to  get  back  her  composure, 
and  after  a  few  minutes  succeeded. 

"  Mamma,  will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean  e* 
actly  by  my  '  putting  my  trust '  in  Him  ? " 

"  Don't  you  trust  me,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  mamma." 

**  How  do  you  trust  me  ? — in  what?" 
2 


1 3  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Why,  mamma  : — in  the  first  place,  I  trust  every 
word  you  say — entirely — I  know  nothing  could  be 
truer ;  if  you  were  to  tell  me  black  is  white,  mamma, 
I  should  think  my  eyes  had  been  mistaken.  Then 
everything  you  tell  or  advise  me  to  do,  I  know  it  is 
right,  perfectly.  And  I  always  feel  safe  when  you 
are  near  me,  because  I  know  you'll  take  care  of 
me.  And  I  am  glad  to  think  I  belong  to  you,  and 
you  have  the  management  of  me  entirely,  and  I 
needn't  manage  myself,  because  I  know  I  can't; 
and  if  I  could,  I'd  rather  you  would,  mamma." 

"  My  daughter,  it  is  just  so  ;  it  \sjust  so ;  that  I 
wish  you  to  trust  in  God.  He  is  truer,  wiser, 
stronger,  kinder,  by  far,  than  I  am,  even  if  I  could 
be  always  with  you ;  and  what  will  you  do  when  I 
am  away  from  you  ? — and  what  would  you  do,  my 
child,  if  I  were  to  be  parted  from  you  forever  ?  "' 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  "  said  Ellen,  bursting  into  tears, 
and  clasping  her  arms  round  her  mother  again — 
"  Oh,  dear  mamma,  don't  talk  about  it ! " 

Her  mother  fondly  returned  her  caress,  and  one 
or  two  tears  fell  on  Ellen's  head  as  she  did  so,  but 
that  was  all,  and  she  said  no  more.  Feeling 
severely  the  effects  of  the  excitement  and  anxiety 
of  the  preceding  day  and  night,  she  now  stretched 
herself  on  the  sofa  and  lay  quite  still.  Ellen  placed 
herself  on  a  little  bench  at  her  side,  with  her  back 
to  the  head  of  the  sofa,  that  her  mother  might  not 
see  her  face  ;  and  possessing  herself  of  one  of  her 
hands,  sat  with  her  little  head  resting  upon  her 
mother,  as  quiet  as  she.  They  remained  thus  for 
two  or  three  hours,  without  speaking,  and  Mrs. 
Montgomery  was  part  of  the  time  slumbering  ;  but 
now  and  then  a  tear  ran  down  the  side  of  the  sofa 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  19 

and  dropped  on  the  carpet  where  Ellen  sat ;  and 
now  and  then  her  lips  were  softly  pressed  to  the 
hand  she  held,  as  if  they  would  grow  there. 

The  doctor's  entrance  at  last  disturbed  them. 
Doctor  Green  found  his  patient  decidedly  worse 
than  he  had  reason  to  expect ;  and  his  sagacious 
eye  had  not  passed  back  and  forth  many  times 
between  the  mother  and  daughter  before  he  saw 
how  it  was.  He  made  no  remark  upon  it,  however, 
but  continued  for  some  moments  a  pleasant  chatty 
conversation  which  he  had  begun  with  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery. He  then  called  Ellen  to  him ;  he  had 
rather  taken  a  fancy  to  her. 

"  Well,  Miss  Ellen,"  he  said,  rubbing  one  of  her 
hands  in  his,  "  what  do  you  think  of  this  fine 
scheme  of  mine  ?  " 

"  What  scheme,  sir  ? " 

"  Why,  this  scheme  of  sending  this  sick  lady  over 
the  water  to  get  well ;  what  do  you  think  of  it,  eh  ?  " 

"  Will  it  make  her  quite  well,  do  you  think,  sir  ?  " 
asked  Ellen  earnestly. 

"  '  Will  it  make  her  well ! '  to  be  sure  it  will ;  do 
you  think  I  don't  know  better  than  to  send  people 
all  the  way  across  the  ocean  for  nothing  ?  Who 
do  you  think  would  want  Dr.  Green  if  he  sent 
people  on  wild-goose  chases  in  that  fashion  ?  " 

"  Will  she  have  to  stay  long  there  before  she  is 
cured,  sir  ?  "  asked  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  that  I  can't  tell ;  that  depends  entirely  on 
circumstances — perhaps  longer,  perhaps  shorter. 
But  now,  Miss  Ellen,  I've  got  a  word  of  business 
to  say  to  you ;  you  know  you  agreed  to  be  my  little 
nurse.  Mrs.  Nurse,  this  lady  whom  I  put  under 
your  care  the  other  day,  isn't  quite   as  well  as  she 


20  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

ought  to  be  this  morning  ;  I'm  afraid  you  haven't 
taken  proper  care  of  her ;  she  looks  to  me  as  if  she 
had  been  too  much  excited.  I've  a  notion  she  has 
been  secretly  taking  half  a  bottle  of  wine,  or  reading 
some  furious  kind  of  a  novel,  or  something  of  that 
sort — you  understand? — Now  mind,  Mrs.  Nurse,' 
said  the  doctor,  changing  his  tone,  "  she  must  not 
be  excited — you  must  take  care  that  she  is  not — it 
isn't  good  for  her.  You  mustn't  let  her  talk  much, 
or  laugh  much,  or  cry  at  all,  on  any  account ;  she 
mustn't  be  worried  in  the  least — will  you  remem- 
ber ?  Now  you  know  what  I  shall  expect  of  you  ; 
you  must  be  very  careful — if  that  piece  of  toast  of 
yours  should  chance  to  get  burned,  one  of  these 
fine  evenings,  I  won't  answer  for  the  consequences. 
Good-bye,"  said  he,  shaking  Ellen's  hand — "you 
needn't  look  sober  about  it, — all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  let  your  mamma  be  as  much  like  an  oyster  as 
possible  ; — you  understand  ?  Good-bye."  And 
Dr.  Green  took  his  leave. 

"  Poor  woman  !  "  said  the  doctor  to  himself  as 
he  went  downstairs  (he  was  a  humane  man).  "  I 
wonder  if  she'll  live  till  she  gets  to  the  other  side  ! 
That's  a  nice  little  girl,  too.  Poor  child !  poor 
child!" 

Both  mother  and  daughter  silently  acknowledged 
the  justice  of  the  doctor's  advice  and  determined 
to  follow  it.  By  common  consent,  as  it  seemed, 
each  for  several  days  avoided  bringing  the  subject 
of  sorrow  to  the  other's  mind  ;  though  no  doubt  it 
was  constantly  present  to  both.  It  was  not  spoken 
of — indeed,  little  of  any  kind  was  spoken  of,  but 
that  never.  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  doubtless  em- 
ployed during  this  interval  in  preparing   for    what 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  21 

she  believed  was  before  her;  endeavoring  to  resign 
herself  and  her  child  to  Him  in  whose  hands  they 
were,  and  struggling  to  withdraw  her  affections 
from  a  world  which  she  had  a  secret  misgiving  she 
was  fast  leaving.  As  for  Ellen,  the  doctor's  warn- 
ing had  served  to  strengthen  the  resolve  she  had 
already  made,  that  she  would  not  distress  her 
mother  with  the  sight  of  her  sorrow ;  and  she  kept 
it,  as  far  as  she  could.  She  did  not  let  her  mother 
see  but  very  few  tears,  and  those  were  quiet  ones  ; 
though  she  drooped  her  head  like  a  withered  flower, 
and  went  about  the  house  with  an  air  of  submissive 
sadness  that  tried  her  mother  sorely.  But  when 
she  was  alone,  and  knew  no  one  could  see,  sorrow 
had  its  way ;  and  then  there  were  sometimes 
agonies  of  grief  that  would  almost  have  broken 
Mrs.  Montgomery's  resolution  had  she  known 
them. 

This,  however,  could  not  last.  Ellen  was  a  child, 
and  of  most  buoyant  and  elastic  spirit  naturally ; 
it  was  not  for  one  sorrow,  however  great,  to  utterly 
crush  her.  It  would  have  taken  years  to  do  that. 
Moreover,  she  entertained  not  the  slightest  hope  of 
being  able  by  any  means  to  alter  her  father's  will. 
She  regarded  the  dreaded  evil  as  an  inevitable 
thing.  But  though  she  was  at  first  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow,  and  for  some  days  evidently  pined  un- 
der it  sadly,  hope  at  length  wouZd  come  back  to  her 
little  heart ;  and  no  sooner  in  again,  hope  began  to 
smooth  the  roughest,  and  soften  the  hardest,  and 
touch  the  dark  spots  with  light,  in  Ellen's  future. 
The  thoughts  which  had  just  passed  through  her 
head  that  first  morning  as  she  stood  at  her  window 
now  came   back   again      Thoughts   of   wonderful 


22  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

improvement  to  be  made  during  her  mother's  ab- 
sence ; — of  unheard-of  efforts  to  learn  and  amend, 
which  should  all  be  crowned  with  success ;  and 
above  all,  thoughts  of  that  "  coming  home,"  when 
all  these  attainments  and  accomplishments  should 
be  displayed  to  her  mother's  delighted  eyes,  and 
her  exertions  receive  their  long-desired  reward; — 
they  made  Ellen's  heart  beat,  and  her  eyes  swim, 
and  even  brought  a  smile  once  more  upon  her  lips. 
Mrs.  Montgomery  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  change  ; 
she  felt  that  as  much  time  had  already  been  given 
to  sorrow  as  they  could  afford  to  lose,  and  she 
had  not  known  exactly  how  to  proceed.  Ellen's 
amended  looks  and  spirits  greatly  relieved  her. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Ellen  ? "  said 
she,  one  morning. 

Ellen  was  sewing,  and  while  busy  at  her  work 
her  mother  had  two  or  three  times  observed  a  slight 
smile  pass  over  her  face.  Ellen  looked  up,  still 
smiling,  and  answered,  "  Oh,  mamma,  I  was  think- 
ing of  different  things — things  that  I  mean  to  do 
while  you  are  gone." 

"  And  what  are  these  things  ? "  inquired  her 
mother. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  it  wouldn't  do  to  tell  you  before- 
hand ;  I  want  to  surprise  you  with  them  when  you 
come  back." 

A  slight  shudder  passed  over  Mrs.  Montgomery's 
frame,  but  Ellen  did  not  see  it.  Mrs.  Montgomery 
was  silent.  Ellen  presently  introduced  another 
subject. 

"  Mamma,  what  kind  of  a  person  is  my  aunt?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;   I  have  never  seen  her." 

"  How  has  that  happened,  mamma  ? ' 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  23 

"  Your  aunt  has  always  lived  in  a  remote  country 
town,  and  I  have  been  very  much  confined  to  two 
or  three  cities,  and  your  father's  long  and  repea  ted 
absences  made  traveling  impossible  to  me." 

Ellen  thought,  but  she  didn't  say  it,  that  it  was 
very  odd  her  father  should  not  sometimes,  when  he 
was  in  the  country,  have  gone  to  see  his  relations, 
and  taken  her  mother  with  him. 

"  What  is  my  aunt's  name,  mamma  ? " 

"  I  think  you  must  have  heard  that  already, 
Ellen  :   Fortune  Emerson." 

"  Emerson  !     I  thought  she  was  papa's  sister  ?  " 

"  So  she  is." 

"  Then  how  comes  her  name  not  to  be  Mont- 
gomery ? " 

"  She  is  only  his  half-sister  ;  the  daughter  of  his 
mother,  not  the  daughter  of  his  father." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  that,"  said  Ellen,  gravely. 

"  Why,  my  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  she  will  not  be  so  likely  to  love  me." 

"  You  mustn't  think  so,  my  child.  Her  loving 
or  not  loving  you  will  depend  solely  and  entirely 
upon  yourself,  Ellen.  Don't  forget  that.  If  you 
are  a  good  child,  and  make  it  your  daily  care  to  do 
your  duty,  she  cannot  help  liking  you,  be  she  what 
she  may  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  if  she  have  all  the 
will  in  the  world  to  love  you,  she  cannot  do  it 
unless  you  will  let  her — it  all  depends  on  your 
behavior." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  I  can't  help  wishing  dear  Aunt 
Bessy  was  alive,  and  I  was  going  to  her." 

Many  a  time  the  same  wish  had  passed  through 
Mrs.  Montgomery's  mind  !  But  she  kept  down  hei 
rising  heart,  and  went  on  calmly. 


24  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  You  must  not  expect,  my  child,  to  find  any 
body  as  indulgent  as  I  am,  or  as  ready  to  overlook 
and  excuse  your  faults.  It  would  be  unreasonable 
to  look  for  it ;  and  you  must  not  think  hardly  of 
your  aunt  when  you  find  she  is  not  your  mother  ; 
>ut  then  it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  she  does  not 
iove  you,  in  time,  truly  and  tenderly.  See  that 
you  render  her  all  the  respect  and  obedience  you 
could  render  me  ;  that  is  your  bounden  duty  ;  she 
will  stand  in  my  place  while  she  has  the  care  of 
you,  remember  that,  Ellen ;  and  remember,  too, 
that  she"  will  deserve  more  gratitude  at  your  hands 
for  showing  you  kindness  than  I  do,  because  she 
cannot  have  the  same  feeling  of  love  to  make 
trouble  easy." 

"  Oh,  no,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  don't  think  so  ; 
it's  that  very  feeling  of  love  that  I  am  grateful  for ; 
I  don't  care  a  fig  for  anything  people  do  for  me 
without  that." 

"  But  you  can  make  her  love  you,  Ellen,  if  you 
toy." 

"  Well,  I'll  try,  mamma." 

"  And  don't  be  discouraged.  Perhaps  you  may  be 
disappointed  in  first  appearances,  but  never  mind 
that ;  have  patience  ;  and  let  your  motto  be  (if 
there's  any  occasion),  overcome  evil  with  good. 
Will  you  put  that  among  the  things  you  mean  to 
do  while  I  am  gone  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  with 
a  smile. 

"  I'll  try,  dear  mamma." 

"  You  will  succeed  if  you  try  dear,  never  fear ; 
if  you  apply  yourself  in  your  trying  to  the  only  un- 
failing source  of  wisdom  and  strength — to  Him 
without  whom  you  can  do  nothing." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  25 

There  was  silence  for  a  little. 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  it  where  my  aunt  lives  ? " 
asked  Ellen. 

"  Your  father  says  it  is  a  very  pleasant  place  ;  he 
says  the  country  is  beautiful,  and  very  healthy,  and 
full  of  charming  walks  and  rides.  You  have  never 
lived  in  the  country  ;  I  think  you  will  enjoy  it  very 
much." 

"  Then  it  is  not  a  town  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  No  ;  it  is  not  far  from  the  town  of  Thirlwall,. 
but  your  aunt  lives  in  the  open  country.  Your 
father  says  she  is  a  capital  housekeeper,  and  that 
you  will  learn  more,  and  be  in  all  respects  a  great 
deal  happier  and  better  off  than  you  would  be  in  a 
boarding-school  here  or  anywhere." 

Ellen's  heart  secretly  questioned  the  truth  of  this 
last  assertion  very  much. 

"  Is  there  any  school  near  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Your  father  says  there  was  an  excellent  one  in 
Thirlwall  when  he  was  there." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  think  the  greatest 
pleasure  I  shall  have  while  you  are  gone  will  be 
writing  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  a  good 
deal.  I  mean  to  tell  you  everything — absolutely 
everything,  mamma.  You  know  there  will  be  no- 
body for  me  to  talk  to  as  I  do  to  you  " — Ellen's 
words  came  out  with  difficulty—"  and  when  I  feel 
badly,  I  shall  just  shut  myself  up  and  write  to  you." 
She  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap. 

"  I  count  upon  it,  my  dear  daughter ;  it  wilt 
make  quite  as  much  the  pleasure  of  my  life,  Ellen, 
as  of  yours." 

"  But  then,  mother,"  said  Ellen,  brushing  away 
the  tears  from  her  eyes,  "  it  will  be  so  long  before 


2  6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

my  letters  can  get  to  you  !  The  things  I  want  you 
to  know  right  away,  you  won't  know  perhaps  in  a 
month." 

"  That's  no  matter,  daughter  •  they  will  be  just 
as  good  when  they  do  get  to  me.  Never  think  of 
that ;  write  every  day,  and  all  manner  of  things  that 
concern  you, — just  as  particularly  as  if  you  were 
speaking  to  me." 

"  And  you'll  write  to  me  too,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  will — when  I  can.  But,  Ellen,  you 
say  that  when  I  am  away  and  cannot  hear  you, 
there  will  be  nobody  to  supply  my  place.  Perhaps 
it  will  be  so — indeed  ;  but  then,  my  daughter,  let  it 
make  you  seek  that  Friend  who  is  never  far  away 
nor  out  of  hearing.  Draw  nigh  to  God,  and 
He  will  draw  nigh  to  you.  You  know  He  has 
said  of  His  children  :  '  Before  they  call,  I  will 
answer  ;  and  while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will 
hear.'  " 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  her  eyes  filling  in- 
stantly, "  you  know  He  is  not  my  friend  in  the 
same  way  that  He  is  yours."  And  hiding  her  face 
again,  she  added,  "  Oh,  I  wish  He  was  !  " 

"  You  know  the  way  to  make  Him  so,  Ellen. 
He  is  willing ;  it  only  rests  with  you.  Oh,  my  child, 
my  child  !  If  losing  your  mother  might  be  the  means 
of  finding  you  that  better  Friend,  I  should  be  quite 
willing — and  glad  to  go — forever." 

There  was  silence,  only  broken  by  Ellen's  sobs. 
Mrs.  Montgomery's  voice  had  trembled,  and  her 
face  was  now  covered  with  her  hands ;  but  she  was 
not  weeping  ;  she  was  seeking  a  better  relief  where 
it  had  long  been  her  habit  to  seek  and  find  it. 
Both  soon  resumed  their  usual  composure,  and  the 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  27 

employments  which  had  been  broken  off,  but  neither 
chose  to  renew  the  conversation.  Dinner,  sleeping 
and  company  prevented  their  having  another  oppor- 
tunity during  the  rest  of  the  day. 

But  when  evening  came,  they  were  again  left 
to  themselves.  Captain  Montgomery  was  away, 
which  indeed  was  the  case  most  of  the  time  ;  friends 
had  taken  their  departure  ;  the  curtains  were  down, 
the  lamp  lit,  the  little  room  looked  cozy  and  com- 
fortable ;  the  servant  had  brought  the  tea-things, 
and  withdrawn,  and  the  mother  and  daughter  were 
happily  alone.  Mrs.  Montgomery  knew  that  such 
occasions  were  numbered,  and  fast  drawing  to  an 
end,  and  she  felt  each  one  to  be  very  precious. 
She  now  lay  on  her  couch,  with  her  face  partially 
shaded,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon  her  little  daughter, 
who  was  preparing  the  tea.  She  watched  her,  with 
thoughts  and  feelings  not  to  bespoken,  as  the  little 
figure  went  back  and  forward  between  the  table  and 
the  fire,  and  the  light  shining  full  upon  her  busy 
face,  showed  that  Ellen's  whole  soul  was  in  her  be- 
loved duty.  Tears  would  fall  as  she  looked,  and 
were  not  wiped  away ;  but  when  Ellen,  having  fin- 
ished her  work,  brought  with  a  satisfied  face  the 
little  tray  of  tea  and  toast  to  her  mother,  there  was 
no  longer  any  sign  of  them  left ;  Mrs.  Montgomery 
arose,  with  her  usual  kind  smile,  to  show  her  grati- 
tude by  honoring  as  far  as  possible  what  Ellen  had 
provided. 

"  You  have  more  appetite  to-night,  mamma." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  daughter,"  replied  her  mother, 

"  to  see  that  you  have  made  up    your  mind  to  bear 

patiently  this  evil  that  has  come  upon   us.     I  am 

glad  for  your  sake,  and  I  am  glad  for  mine ;  and  I 


2b  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

am  glad,  too,  because  we  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
and  no  time  to  lose  in  doing  it." 

"  What  have  we  so  much  to  do,  mamma  ? "  said 
Ellen. 

"  Oh,  many  things,"  said  her  mother  ;  "you  will 
see.  But  now,  Ellen,  if  there  is  anything  you  wish 
to  talk  to  me  about,  any  question  you  want  to  ask, 
anything  you  would  like  particularly  to  have,  or  to 
have  done  for  you, — I  want  you  to  tell  it  me  as  soon 
as  possible,  now  while  we  can  attend  to  it, — for  by 
and  by  perhaps  we  shall  be  hurried." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  with  brightening  eyes, 
'"  there  is  one  thing  I  have  thought  of  that  I  should 
like  to  have.     Shall  I  tell  it  you  now  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Mamma,  you  know  I  shall  want  to  be  writing  a 
great  deal ;  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to 
have  a  little  box  with  some  pens  in  it,  and  an  ink- 
stand, and  some  paper  and  wafers  ?  Because, 
mamma,  you  know  I  shall  be  among  strangers,  at 
first,  and  I  sha'n't  feel  like  asking  them  for  these 
things  as  often  as  I  shall  want  them,  and  may  be 
they  wouldn't  want  to  let  me  have  them  if  I  did." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that  already,  my  daughter," 
said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh.  "  I 
will  certainly  take  care  that  you  are  well  provided 
in  that  respect  before  you  go." 

"  How  am  I  to  go,  mamma  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  who  will  go  with  me  ?  You  know  I 
can't  go  alone,  mamma." 

"  No,  my  daughter,  I'll  not  send  you  alone.  But 
your  father  says  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  take  the 
journey  at  present,  and  it  is  yet  more  impossible 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  29 

for  me.  There  is  no  help  for  it,  daughter,  but  we 
must  intrust  you  to  the  care  of  some  friend  going 
that  way ; — but  He  that  holds  the  winds  and  waters 
in  the  hollow  of  His  hand  can  take  care  of  you 
without  any  of  our  help,  and  it  is  to  His  keeping 
above  all  that  I  shall  commit  you." 

Ellen  made  no  remark,  and  seemed  much  less 
surprised  and  troubled  than  her  mother  had  ex- 
pected. In  truth,  the  greater  evil  swallowed  up  the 
less.  Parting  from  her  mother,  and  for  so  long  a 
time,  it  seemed  to  her  comparatively  a  matter  of 
little  importance  with  whom  she  went,  or  how,  or 
where.  Except  for  this,  the  taking  a  long  journey 
under  a  stranger's  care  would  have  been  a  dreadful 
thing  to  her. 

"  Do  you  know  yet  who  it  will  be  that  I  shall  go 
with,  mamma  ? " 

"  Not  yet ;  but  it  will  be  necessary  to  take  the 
first  good  opportunity,  for  I  cannot  go  till  I  have 
seen  you  off;  and  it  is  thought  very  desirable  that 
I  should  get  to  sea  before  the  severe  weather 
comes." 

It  was  with  a  pang  that  these  words  were  spoken, 
and  heard,  but  neither  showed  it  to  the  other. 

"  It  has  comforted  me  greatly,  my  dear  child, 
that  you  have  shown  yourself  so  submissive  and 
patient  under  this  affliction.  I  should  scarcely 
have  been  able  to  endure  it  if  you  had  not  exerted 
self-control.     You  have  behaved  beautifully." 

This  was  almost  too  much  for  poor  Ellen.  It 
required  her  utmost  stretch  of  self-control  to  keep 
within  any  bounds  of  composure :  and  for  some 
moments  her  flushed  cheek,  quivering  lip,  and  heav- 
ing bosom  told  what  a  tumult  her  mother's  words 


30  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

had  raised.  Mrs.  Montgomery  saw  she  had  gone 
too  far,  and  willing  to  give  both  Ellen  and  herself 
time  to  recover,  she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow 
again  and  closed  her  eyes.  Many  thoughts  com- 
ing thick  upon  one  another  presently  filled  her 
mind,  and  half  an  hour  had  passed  before  she 
again  recollected  what  she  had  meant  to  say.  She 
opened  her  eyes  ;  Ellen  was  sitting  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, staring  into  the  fire,  evidently  as  deep  in 
meditation  as  her  mother  had  been. 

"  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  "  did  you  ever 
fancy  what  kind  of  a  Bible  you  would  like  to 
have  ? " 

"  A  Bible  !  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  with  sparkling 
eyes  ;  "  do  you  mean  to  give  me  a  Bible  ?  " 

Mrs.  Montgomery  smiled. 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  gently,  "  I  thought 
you  couldn't  afford  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  said  so,  and  truly,"  answered  hef 
mother  ;  "  and  hitherto  you  have  been  able  to  use 
mine,  but  I  will  not  leave  you  now  without  one.  I 
will  find  ways  and  means,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery, 
smiling  again. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  thank  you  !  "  said  Ellen,  delighted  ; 
"  how  glad  I  shall  be  !  "  And  after  a  pause  of 
consideration,  she  added,  "  Mamma,  I  never 
thought  much  about  what  sort  of  a  one  I  should 
like  ;  couldn't  I  tell  better  if  I  were  to  see  the 
different  kinds  in  the  store  ?  " 

' '  Perhaps  so.  Well,  the  first  day  that  the  weather 
^s  fine  enough  and  I  am  well  enough,  I  will  go  out 
with  you,  and  we  will  see  about  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  Dr.  Green  won't  let  you,  mamma." 

"  I  shall  not  ask  him.     I  want  to  get  you  a  Bible, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  31 

and  some  other  things  that  I  will  not  leave  you 
without,  and  nobody  can  do  it  but  myself.  I  shall 
go,  if  I  possibly  can." 

"  What  other  things,  mamma  ?  "  asked  Ellen,  very 
much  interested  in  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  do  to  tell  you  to-night," 
said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  smiling.  "  I  foresee  that 
you  and  I  should  be  kept  awake  quite  too  late  if 
we  were  to  enter  upon  it  just  now.  We  will  leave 
it  till  to-morrow.  Now  read  to  me,  love,  and  then 
to  bed." 

Ellen  obeyed,  and  went  to  sleep  with  brighter 
visions  dancing  before  her  eyes  than  had  been  the 
case  for  some  time. 

CHAPTER  III. 

Sweetheart,  we  shall  be  rich  ere  we  depart, 

If  fairings  come  thus  plentifully  in. — Shakspeare. 

Ellen  had  to  wait  some  time  for  the  desired  fine 
day.  The  equinoctial  storms  would  have  their  way 
as  usual,  and  Ellen  thought  they  were  longer  than 
ever  this  year.  But  after  many  stormy  days  had 
tried  her  patience,  there  was  at  length  a  sudden 
change,  both  without  and  within  doors.  The  clouds 
had  done  their  work  for  that  time,  and  fled  away 
before  a  strong  northerly  wind,  leaving  the  sky 
bright  and  fair.  And  Mrs.  Montgomery's  deceitful 
disease  took  a  turn,  and  for  a  little  space  raised  the 
hopes  of  her  friends.  All  were  rejoicing  but  two 
persons :  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  not  deceived, 
neither  was  the  doctor.  The  shopping  project  was 
kept  a  profound  secret  from  him  and  from  every- 
body except  Ellen. 


32  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  watched  now  for  a  favorable  day.  Every 
morning  as  soon  as  she  rose  she  went  to  the  window 
to  see  what  was  the  look  of  the  weather  ;  and  about 
a  week  after  the  change  above  noticed,  she  was 
greatly  pleased  one  morning,  on  opening  her  window 
as  usual,  to  find  the  air  and  sky  promising  all  that 
could  be  desired.  It  was  one  of  those  beautiful 
days  in  the  end  of  September,  that  sometimes 
herald  October  before  it  arrives — cloudless,  brill- 
iant, and  breathing  balm.  "  This  will  do,"  said 
Ellen  to  herself,  in  great  satisfaction.  "  I  think 
this  will  do  ;  I  hope  mamma  will  think  so." 

Hastily  dressing  herself,  and  a  good  deal  excited 
already,  she  ran  downstairs  ;  and  after  the  morning 
salutations,  examined  her  mother's  looks  with  as 
much  anxiety  as  she  had  just  done  those  of  the 
weather.  All  was  satisfactory  there  also ;  and 
Ellen  ate  her  breakfast  with  an  excellent  appetite  ; 
but  she  said  not  a  word  of  the  intended  expedition 
till  her  father  should  be  gone.  She  contented  her- 
self with  strengthening  her  hopes  by  making  con- 
stant fresh  inspections  of  the  weather  and  her 
mother's  countenance  alternately ;  and  her  eyes  re- 
turning from  the  window  on  one  of  these  excur- 
sions and  meeting  her  mother's  face,  saw  a  smile 
there  which  said  all  she  wanted.  Breakfast  went 
on  more  vigorously  than  ever.  But  after  breakfast 
it  seemed  to  Ellen  that  her  father  never  would  go 
away.  He  took  the  newspaper,  an  uncommon  thing 
for  him,  and  pored  over  it  mostperseveringly,  while 
Ellen  was  in  a  perfect  fidget  of  impatience.  Her 
mother,  seeing  the  state  she  was  in,  and  taking  pity 
on  her,  sent  her  upstairs  "to  do  some  little  matters 
of  business  in  her  e>wn  room.     These  Ellen  di& 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  33 

patched  with  all  possible  zeal  and  speed ;  and  coming 
down  again  found  her  father  gone,  and  her  mother 
alone.  She  flew  to  kiss  her  in  the  first  place,  and 
then  make  the  inquiry,  "  Don't  you  think  to-day 
will  do,  mamma  ?  " 

"  As  fine  as  possible,  daughter  ;  we  could  not 
have  a  better ;  but  I  must  wait  till  the  doctor  has 
been  here." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen  after  a  pause,  making  a 
great  effort  of  self-denial,  "  I  am  afraid  you  oughtn't 
to  go  out  to  get  these  things  for  me.  Pray  don't,, 
mamma,  if  you  think  it  will  do  you  harm.  I  would 
rather  go  without  them  ;  indeed  I  would." 

"  Never  mind  that,  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery, kissing  her  ;  "  I  am  bent  upon  it  •  it  would 
be  quite  as  much  of  a  disappointment  to  me  as  to 
you  not  to  go.  We  have  a  lovely  day  for  it,  and 
we  will  take  our  time  and  walk  slowly,  and  we 
haven't  far  to  go  either.  But  I  must  let  Dr.  Green 
make  his  visit  first." 

To  fill  up  the  time  till  he  came,  Mrs.  Montgomery 
employed  Ellen  in  reading  to  her  as  usual.  And 
this  morning's  reading  Ellen  long  after  remembered. 
Her  mother  directed  her  to  several  passages  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  Bible  that  speak  of  heaven  and 
its  enjoyments  ;  and  though,  when  she  began,  her 
own  little  heart  was  full  of  excitement,  in  view  of 
the  day's  plans,  and  beating  with  hope  and  pleasure, 
the  sublime  beauty  of  the  words  and  thoughts,  as 
she  went  on,  awed  her  into  quiet,  and  her  mother's 
manner  at  length  turned  her  attention  entirely  from 
herself.  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  lying  on  the  sofa, 
and  for  the  most  part  listened  in  silence,  with  her 
eyes  closed  ;  but  sometimes  saying  a  word  or  two 
3 


34  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

that  made  Ellen  feel  how  deep  was  the  interest  her 
mother  had  in  the  things  she  read  of,  and  how  pure 
and  strong  the  pleasure  she  was  even  now  taking 
in  them  ;  and  sometimes  there  was  a  smile  on  her 
face  that  Ellen  scarce  liked  to  see  ;  it  gave  her 
an  indistinct  feeling  that  her  mother  would  not  be 
long  away  from  that  heaven  to  which  she  seemed 
already  to  belong.  Ellen  had  a  sad  consciousness, 
too,  that  she  had  no  part  with  her  mother  in  this 
matter.  She  could  hardly  go  on.  She  came  to 
that  beautiful  passage  in  the  seventh  of  Revel- 
ation : — 

"  And  one  of  the  elders  answered  saying  unto  me, 
What  are  these  which  are  arrayed  in  white  robes  ? 
and  whence  came  they?  And  I  said  unto  him, 
Sir,  thou  knowest.  And  he  said  unto  me,  These 
are  they  which  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and 
have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they 
before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  Him  day  and 
night  in  His  temple  :  and  He  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne  shall  dwell  among  them.  They  shall  hunger 
no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall 
the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb 
which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them, 
and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters  ; 
and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

With  difficulty,  and  a  husky  voice,  Ellen  got 
through  it.  Lifting  then  her  eyes  to  her  mother's 
face,  she  saw  again  the  same  singular  sweet  smile. 
Ellen  felt  that  she  could  not  read  another  word  ;  to 
her  great  relief  the  door  opened,  and  Dr.  Green 
came  in.  His  appearance  changed  the  whole  course 
of  her  thoughts.     All  that  was  grave  or  painful  fled 


THE    WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  35 

quickly  away  ;  Ellen's  head  was  immediately  full 
again  of  what  had  filled  it  before  she  began  to  read. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  retired,  and  was  fairly 
out  of  hearing,  "  Now,  mamma,  shall  we  go  ? " 
said  Ellen.  "You  needn't  stir,  mamma ;  I'll  bring 
all  your  things  to  you,  and  put  them  on ;  may  I, 
mamma  ?  then  you  won't  be  a  bit  tired  before  you 
set  out." 

Her  mother  assented ;  and  with  a  great  deal  of 
tenderness,  and  a  great  deal  of  eagerness,  Ellen 
put  on  her  stockings  and  shoes,  arranged  her  hair, 
and  did  all  that  she  could  toward  changing  her 
dress,  and  putting  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl ;  and 
greatly  delighted  she  was  when  the  business  was 
accomplished. 

"  Now,  mamma,  you  look  like  yourself ;  I  haven't 
seen  you  look  so  well  this  great  while.  I'm  so 
glad  you're  going  out  again,"  said  Ellen,  putting  her 
arms  round  her,  "  I  do  believe  it  will  do  you  good. 
Now,  mamma,  I'll  go  and  get  ready ;  I'll  be  very 
quick  about  it ;  you  sha'n't  have  to  wait  long  for 
me."  - 


In  a  few  minutes  the  two  set  forth  from  the 
house.  The  day  was  as  fine  as  could  be;  there 
was  no  wind,  there  was  no  dust ;  the  sun  was  not 
oppressive  ,  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  did  feel  refreshed 
and  strengthened  during  the  few  steps  they  had  to 
take  to  their  first  stopping-place. 

It  was  a  jeweler's  store.  Ellen  had  never  been 
in  one  before  in  her  life,  and  her  first  feeling  on 
entering  was  of  dazzled  wonderment  at  the  glittering 
splendors  around ;  this  was  presently  forgotten  in 
curiosity  to  know  what  her  mother  could  possibly 
want  there.      She  soon  discovered  that   she  had 


3  6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

come  to  sell  and  not  to  buy.  Mrs.  Montgomery 
drew  a  ring  from  her  finger,  and  after  a  little  chaf- 
fering parted  with  it  to  the  owner  of  the  store  for 
eighty  dollars,  being  about  three-quarters  of  its 
real  value.  The  money  was  counted  out  and  she 
left  the  store. 

"Mamma,"  said  Ellen  in  a  low  voice,  "wasn't 
that  grandmamma's  ring,  which  I  thought  you 
loved  so  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did  love  it,  Ellen,  but  I  love  you  better." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  I  am  very  sorry !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  You  need  not  be  sorry,  daughter.  Jewels  in 
themselves  are  the  merest  nothings  to  me  ;  and  as 
for  the  rest,  it  doesn't  matter  ;  I  can  remember  my 
mother  without  any  help  from  a  trinket." 

There  were  tears,  however,  in  Mrs.  Montgomery's 
eyes,  that  showed  the  sacrifice  had  cost  her  some- 
thing ;  and  there  were  tears  in  Ellen's,  that  told  it 
was  not  thrown  away  upon  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  know  of  this,"  continued 
Mrs.  Montgomery ;  "  you  should  not  if  I  could  have 
helped  it.  But  set  your  heart  quite  at  rest,  Ellen ; 
I  assure  you  this  use  of  my  ring  gives  me  more 
pleasure  on  the  whole  than  any  other  I  could  have 
made  of  it." 

A  grateful  squeeze  of  her  hand  and  glance  into 
her  face  was  Ellen's  answer. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  had  applied  to  her  husband 
for  the  funds  necessary  to  fit  Ellen  comfortably  for 
the  time  they  should  be  absent ;  and  in  answer  he 
had  given  her  a  sum  barely  sufficient  for  her  mere 
clothing.  Mrs.  Montgomery  knew  him  better  than 
to  ask  for  a  further  supply,  but  she  resolved  to  have 
recourse  to  other  means  to  do  what  she  had  deter* 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  37 

mined  upon.  Now  that  she  was  about  to  leave  her 
little  daughter,  and  it  might  be  forever,  she  had  set 
her  heart  upon  providing  her  with  certain  things 
which  she  thought  important  to  her  comfort  and 
improvement,  and  which  Ellen  would  go  very  long 
without  if  she  did  not  give  them  to  her,  and  now. 
Ellen  had  had  very  few  presents  in  her  life,  and 
those  always  of  the  simplest  and  cheapest  kind ; 
her  mother  resolved  that  in  the  midst  of  the  bitter- 
ness of  this  time  she  would  give  her  one  pleasure, 
if  she  could  ;  it  might  be  the  last. 

They  stopped  next  at  a  bookstore.  "  Oh,  what  a 
delicious  smell  of  new  books  !  "  said  Ellen,  as  they 
entered.  "  Mamma,  if  it  wasn't  for  one  thing,  I 
should  say  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life." 

Children's  books,  lying  in  tempting  confusion 
near  the  door,  immediately  fastened  Ellen's  eyes 
and  attention.  She  opened  one,  and  was  already 
deep  in  the  interest  of  it,  when  the  word  "  Bibles" 
Struck  her  ear.  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  desiring  the 
shopman  to  show  her  various  kinds  and  sizes  that 
she  might  choose  from  among  them.  Down  went 
Ellen's  book,  and  she  flew  to  the  place,  where  a 
dozen  different  Bibles  were  presently  displayed. 
Ellen's  wits  were  ready  to  forsake  her.  Such  beau- 
tiful Bibles  she  had  never  seen ;  she  pored  in  ecstasy 
over  their  varieties  of  type  and  binding,  and  was 
very  evidently  in  love  with  them  all. 

"  Now,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  "  look 
and  choose ;  take  your  time,  and  see  which  you  like 
best." 

It  was  not  likely  that  Ellen's  "  time  "  would  be  a 
short  one.  Her  mother,  seeing  this,  took  a  chair 
at  a  little  distance  to  await  patiently  her  decision  5 


38  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  while  Ellen's  eyes  were  riveced  on  the  Bibles, 
her  own  very  naturally  were  fixed  upon  her.  In  the 
excitement  and  eagerness  of  the  moment,  Ellen 
had  thrown  off  her  light  bonnet,  and  with  flushed 
cheek  and  sparkling  eye,  and  a  brow  grave  with 
unusual  care,  as  though  a  nation's  fate  were  decid- 
ing, she  was  weighing  the  comparative  advantages 
of  large,  small,  and  middle-sized  ; — black,  blue, 
purple,  and  red  ; — gilt  and  not  gilt ; — clasp  and  no 
clasp.  Everything  but  the  Bibles  before  her  Ellen 
had  forgotten  utterly ;  she  was  deep  in  what  was  to 
her  the  most  important  of  business  ;  she  did  not  see 
the  bystanders  smile  ;  she  did  not  know  there  were 
any.  To  her  mother's  eye  it  was  a  most  fair  sight. 
Mrs.  Montgomery  gazed  with  rising  emotions  of 
pleasure  and  pain  that  struggled  for  the  mastery, 
but  pain  at  last  got  the  better  and  rose  very  high. 
"  How  can  I  give  thee  up  !  "  was  the  one  thought 
of  her  heart.  Unable  to  command  herself,  she  rose 
and  went  to  a  distant  part  of  the  counter,  where 
she  seemed  to  be  examining  books  •  but  tears,  some 
of  the  bitterest  she  had  ever  shed,  were  falling  thick 
upon  the  dusty  floor,  and  she  felt  her  heart  like  to 
break.  Her  little  daughter  at  one  end  of  the  counter 
had  forgotten  there  ever  was  such  a  thing  as  sorrow 
in  the  world  ;  and  she  at  the  other  was  bowed  be- 
neath a  weight  of  it  that  was  nigh  to  crush  her. 
But  in  her  extremity  she  betook  herself  to  that 
refuge  she  had  never  known  to  fail ;  it  did  not  fail 
her  now.  She  remembered  the  words  Ellen  had 
been  reading  to  her  but  that  very  morning,  and 
they  came  like  the  breath  of  heaven  upon  the  fever 
of  her  soul.  "  Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be  done.'' 
She  strove  and  prayed  to   say  it,  and  not  in  vain  j 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  39 

and  after  a  little  while  she  was  able  to  return  to  her 
seat.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  shaken  by  a  tem- 
pest, but  she  was  calmer  now  than  before. 

Ellen  was  just  as  she  had  left  her,  and  apparently 
just  as  far  from  coming  to  any  conclusion.  Mrs. 
Montgomery  was  resolved  to  let  her  take  her  way. 
Presently  Ellen  came  over  from  the  counter  with  a 
large  royal  octavo  Bible,  heavy  enough  to  be  a  good 
lift  for  her.  "  Mamma,"  said  she,  laying  it  on  her 
mother's  lap  and  opening  it,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
that  ?  isn't  that  splendid  ?  " 

"  A  most  beautiful  page  indeed ;  is  this  your 
choice,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Well,  mamma,  I  don't  know ;  what  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  rather  inconveniently  large  and 
heavy  for  everyday  use.  It  is  quite  a  weight  upon 
my  lap.  I  shouldn't  like  to  carry  it  in  my  hands 
long.  You  would  want  a  little  table  on  purpose  to 
hold  it." 

"  Well,  that  wouldn't  do  at  all,"  said  Ellen,  laugh- 
ing; "I  believe  you  are  right,  mamma;  I  wonder 
I  didn't  think  of  it.  I  might  have  known  that 
myself." 

She  took  it  back ;  and  there  followed  another 
careful  examination  of  the  whole  stock ;  and  then 
Ellen  came  to  her  mother  with  a  beautiful  minia- 
ture edition  in  two  volumes,  gilt  and  clasped,  and 
very  perfect  in  all  respects,  but  of  exceeding  small 
print. 

"  I  think  I'll  have  this,  mamma,"  said  she,  "  isn't 
it  a  beauty  ?  I  could  put  it  in  my  pocket,  you 
know,  and  carry  it  anywhere  with  the  greatest 
ease." 


40  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  It  would  have  one  great  objection  to  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Montgomery,  "  inasmuch  as  I  cannot  possibly 
see  to  read  it." 

"  Cannot  you,  mamma  ?  But  I  can  read  it  per- 
fectly." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  take  it ;  that  is,  if  you  will 
make  up  your  mind  to  put  on  spectacles  before 
your  time." 

"  Spectacles,  mamma !  I  hope  I  shall  never 
wear  spectacles." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  when  your  sight  fails. 
if  you  shall  live  so  long  ?  " 

"  Well,  mamma, — if  it  comes  to  that, — but  you 
don't  advise  me  then  to  take  this  little  beauty  ?  " 

"  Judge  for  yourself ;  I  think  you  are  old  enough." 

"  I  know  what  you  think  though,  mamma,  and  I 
dare  say  you  are  right,  too ;  I  won't  take  it,  though 
it's  a  pity.     Well,  I  must  look  again." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  came  to  her  help,  for  it  was 
plain  Ellen  had  lost  the  power  of  judging  amidst 
so  many  tempting  objects.  But  she  presently 
simplified  the  matter  by  putting  aside  all  that  were 
decidedly  too  large,  or  too  small,  or  of  too  fine 
print.  There  remained  three  of  moderate  size  and 
sufficiently  large  type,  but  different  binding. 
"  Either  of  these  I  think  will  answer  your  purpose 
nicely,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  Then,  mamma,  if  you  please,  I  will  have  the 
red  one.  I  like  that  best,  because  it  will  put  me 
in  mind  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  could  find  no  fault  with  this 
reason.  She  paid  for  the  red  Bible,  and  directed 
it  to  be  sent  home. 

"  Sha'n't  I  carry  it,  mamma  ? "  said  Ellen. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  41 

"  No,  you  would  find  it  in  the  way ;  we  have 
several  things  to  do  yet." 

"  Have  we,  mamma  ?  I  thought  we  only  came 
to  get  a  Bible." 

"  That  is  enough  for  one  day,  I  confess  ;  I  am  a 
little  afraid  your  head  will  be  turned  ;  but  I  must 
run  the  risk  of  it.  I  dare  not  lose  the  opportunity 
of  this  fine  weather  ;  I  may  not  have  such  another. 
I  wish  to  have  the  comfort  of  thinking,  when  I  am 
away,  that  I  have  left  you  with  everything  neces- 
sary to  the  keeping  up  of  good  habits — everything 
that  will  make  them  pleasant  and  easy.  I  wish  you 
to  be  always  neat  and  tidy,  and  industrious  ;  depend 
ing  upon  others  as  little  as  possible ;  and  careful 
to  improve  yourself  by  every  means,  and  especially 
by  writing  to  me.  I  will  leave  you  no  excuse 
Ellen,  for  failing  in  any  of  these  duties.  I  trust, 
you  will  not  disappoint  me  in  a  single  particular." 

Ellen's  heart  was  too  full  to  speak ;  she  again 
looked  up  tearfully  and  pressed  her  mother's  hand. 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  be  disappointed,  love,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Montgomery. 

They  now  entered  a  large  fancy  store.  "  What 
are  we  to  get  here,  mamma  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  A  box  to  put  your  pens  and  paper  in,"  said  her 
mother,  smiling. 

"Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  Ellen,  "I  had  almost  for- 
gotten that."  She  quite  forgot  it  a  minute  after. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  seen  the  inside 
of  such  a  store  ;  and  the  articles  displayed  on  every 
side  completely  bewitched  her.  From  one  thing 
to  another  she  went,  admiring  and  wondering ;  in 
her  wildest  dreams  she  had  never  imagined  such 
beautiful  things.     The  store  was  fairy-land. 


,+2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  meanwhile  attended  to  busi- 
ness. Having  chosen  a  neat  little  japanned  dress- 
ing-box, perfectly  plain,  but  well  supplied  with 
everything  a  child  could  want  in  that  line,  she 
called  Ellen  from  the  delightful  journey  of  discov- 
ery she  was  making  round  the  store,  and  asked  her 
what  she  thought  of  it.  "  I  think  it  is  a  little 
beauty,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  but  I  never  saw  such  a 
place  for  beautiful  things." 

"You  think  it  will  do,  then  ?  "  said  her  mother. 

"  For  me,  mamma  !  You  don't  mean  to  give  it 
to  me  ?  Oh,  mother,  how  good  you  are !  But  I 
know  what  is  the  best  way  to  thank  you,  and  I'll 
do  it.  What  a  perfect  little  beauty  !  Mamma,  I'm 
too  happy." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  her  mother,  "  for  you  know  I 
haven't  got  you  the  box  for  your  pens  and  paper 
yet." 

"Well,  mamma,  I'll  try  and  bear  it,"  said  Ellen, 
laughing.  "  But  do  get  me  the  plainest  little  thing 
in  the  world,  for  you're  giving  me  too  much." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  asked  to  look  at  writing-desks, 
and  was  shown  to  another  part  of  the  store  for  the 
purpose.  "  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  in  a  low  tone,  as 
they  went,  "  you're  not  going  to  get  me  a  writing- 
desk?" 

"  Why,  that  is  the  best  kind  of  box  for  holding 
writing  materials,"  said  her  mother,  smiling ; — 
"  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say!"  exclaimed  Ellen. 
"  I  can't  thank  you,  mamma  ; — I  haven't  any  words 
to  do  it.     I  think  I  shall  go  crazy." 

She  was  truly  overcome  with  the  weight  of  happi- 
ness.    Words  failed  her,  and  tears  came  instead- 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  43 

From  among  a  great  many  desks  of  all  descrip- 
tions, Mrs.  Montgomery  with  some  difficulty  suc- 
ceeded in  choosing  one  to  her  mind.  It  was  of 
mahogany,  not  very  large,  but  thoroughly  well  made 
and  finished,  and  very  convenient  and  perfect  in 
its  internal  arrangements.  Ellen  was  speechless  ; 
occasional  looks  at  her  mother,  and  deep  sighs, 
were  all  she  had  now  to  offer.  The  desk  was  quite 
empty.  "  Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  "  do  you  re- 
member the  furniture  of  Miss  Allen's  desk,  that  you 
were  so  pleased  with  a  while  ago  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  mamma  ;  I  know  all  that  was  in  u." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  prompt  me  if  I  forget  any- 
thing. Your  desk  shall  be  furnished  with  every- 
thing really  useful.  Merely  showy  matters  we  can 
dispense  with.  Now  let  us  see — Here  is  a  great 
empty  place  that  I  think  wants  some  paper  to  fill 
it.     Show  me  some  of  different  sizes,  if  you  please." 

The  shopman  obeyed,  and  Mrs.  Montgomery 
stocked  the  desk  well  with  letter-paper,  large  and 
small.  Ellen  looked  on  in  great  satisfaction. 
"That  will  do  nicely,"  she  said: — "that  large 
paper  will  be  beautiful  whenever  I  am  writing  to 
you,  mamma,  you  know,  and  the  other  will  do  for 
other  times  when  I  haven't  so  much  to  say ;  though 
I  am  sure  I  don't  know  who  there  is  in  the  world 
I  should  ever  send  letters  to  except  you." 

"  If  there  is  nobody  now,  perhaps  there  will  be 
at  some  future  time,"  replied  her  mother.  "  I  hope 
I  shall  not  always  be  your  only  correspondent. 
Now  what  next  ?  " 

"  Envelopes,  mamma  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  ;  I  had  forgotten  them.  Envelopes 
of  both  sizes  to  match." 


44  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Because,  mamma,  you  know  I  might,  and  I 
certainly  shall  want  to  write  upon  the  fourth  page 
of  my  letter,  and  I  couldn't  do  it  unless  I  had  en- 
velopes." 

A  sufficient  stock  of  envelopes  was  laid  in. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  "  what  do  you  think  of  a 
little  note  paper  ?  " 

"  Who  are  the  notes  to  be  written  to,  Ellen  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  smiling. 

"  You  needn't  smile,  mamma;  you  know,  as  you 
said,  if  I  don't  know  now  perhaps  I  shall  by  and  by. 
Miss  Allen's  desk  had  note-paper ;  that  made  me 
think  of  it." 

"  So  shall  yours,  daughter ;  while  we  are  about 
it  we  will  do  the  thing  well.  And  your  note-paper 
will  keep  quite  safely  in  this  nice  little  place  pro- 
vided for  it,  even  if  you  should  not  want  to  use  a 
sheet  of  it  in  half  a  dozen  years." 

"  How  nice  that  is  !  "  said  Ellen,  admiringly. 

"  I  suppose  the  note-paper  must  have  envelopes 
too,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  To  be  sure,  mamma ;  I  suppose  so,"  said  Ellen, 
smiling  ;  "  Miss  Allen's  had." 

"  Well,  now  we  got  have  all  the  paper  we  want,  I 
think,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery;  "the  next  thing  is 
ink, — or  an  inkstand  rather." 

Different  kinds  were  presented  for  her  choice. 

"Oh,  mamma,  that  one  won't  do,"  said  Ellen, 
anxiously  ;  "  you  know  the  desk  will  be  knocking 
about  in  a  trunk,  and  the  ink  would  run  out,  and 
Spoil  everything.  It  should  be  one  of  those  that 
shut  tight.     I  don't  see  the  right  kind  here." 

The  shopman  brought  one. 

"There,  mamma,  do  you  see?  "  said   Ellen;  "it 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  45 

shuts  with  a  spring,  and  nothing  can  possibly  come 
out ;  do  you  see,  mamma  ?  You  can  turn  it  topsy- 
turvy." 

"  I  see  you  are  quite  right,  daughter  ;  it  seems  I 
should  get  on  very  ill  without  you  to  advise  me. 
Fill  the  inkstand,  if  you  please." 

"  Mamma,  what  shall  I  do  when  my  ink  is  gone  ? 
that  inkstand  will  hold  but  a  little,  you  know." 

"  Your  aunt  will  supply  you,  of  course,  my  dear, 
when  you  are  out." 

"  I'd  rather  take  some  of  my  own  by  half,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  You  could  not  carry  a  bottle  of  ink  in  your 
desk  without  great  danger  to  everything  else  in  it. 
It  would  not  do  to  venture." 

"  We  have  excellent  ink-powder,"  said  the  shop- 
man, "  in  small  packages,  which  can  be  very  con- 
veniently carried  about.  You  see,  ma'am,  there  is 
a  compartment  in  the  desk  for  such  things  ;  and 
the  ink  is  very  easily  made  at  any  time." 

"  Oh,  that  will  do  nicely,"  said  Ellen,  "  that  is 
just  the  thing." 

"  Now  what  is  to  go  in  this  other  square  place 
opposite  the  inkstand  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  That  is  the  place  for  the  box  of  lights,  mamma." 

"  What  sort  of  lights  ? " 

"  For  sealing  letters,  mamma,  you  know.  They 
are  not  like  your  wax  taper  at  all ;  they  are  little 
wax  matches,  that  burn  just  long  enough  to  seal 
one  or  two  letters  ;  Miss  Allen  showed  me  how  she 
used  them.  Hers  were  in  a  nice  little  box  just  like 
the  inkstand  on  the  outside  ;  and  there  was  a  place 
to  light  the  matches,  and  a  place  to  set  them  in 
while  they  are  burning.     There,  mamma,  that's  it," 


46  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

said  Ellen,  as  the  shopman  brought  forth  the  article 
which  she  was  describing,  "  that's  it  exactly  ;  and 
that  will  just  fit.     Now,  mamma,  for  the  wax." 

"  You  want  to  seal  your  letter  before  you  have 
written  it,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery, — "  we  have  not 
got  the  pens  yet." 

"  That's  true,  mamma;  let  us  have  the  pens. 
And  some  quills  too,  mamma  ? " 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  make  a  pen,  Ellen  ? " 

"  No,  mamma,  not  yet ;  but  I  want  to  learn  very 
much.  Miss  Pichegru  says,  that  every  lady  ought 
to  know  how  to  make  her  own  pens." 

"  Miss  Pichegru  is  very  right ;  but  I  think  you 
are  rather  too  young  to  learn.  However,  we  will 
try.  Now  here  are  steel  points  enough  to  last  you 
a  great  while, — and  as  many  quills  as  it  is  needful 
you  should  cut  up  for  one  year  at  least ; — we  haven't 
a  pen-handle  yet." 

"  Here,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  holding  out  a  plain 
ivory  one, — "  don't  you  like  this  ?  I  think  it  is 
prettier  than  these  that  are  all  cut  and  fussed,  or 
those  other  gay  ones  either." 

"  I  think  so  too,  Ellen  ;  the  plainer  the  prettier. 
Now  what  comes  next  ?  " 

"  The  knife,  mamma,  to  make  the  pens,"  said 
Ellen,  smiling. 

"  True,  the  knife.  Let  us  see  some  of  your  best 
pen-knives.  Now,  Ellen,  choose.  That  one  won't 
do,  my  dear ;  it  should  have  two  blades, — a  large 
as  well  as  a  small  one.  You  know  you  want  to 
mend  a  pencil  sometimes." 

"  So  I  do,  mamma,  to  be  sure,  you're  very  right : 
here's  a  nice  one.     Now,  mamma,  the  wax." 

"  There  is  a  box-full ;  choose  your  own  colors." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  47 

Seeing  it  was  likely  to  be  a  work  of  time,  Mrs. 
Montgomery  walked  away  to  another  part  of  the 
store.  When  she  returned,  Ellen  had  made  up  an 
assortment  of  the  oddest  colors  she  could  find. 

"  I  won't  have  any  red,  mamma,  it  is  so  com- 
mon," she  said. 

"  I  think  it  is  the  prettiest  of  all,"  said  Mrs. 
Montgomery. 

"  Do  you,  mamma  ?  then  I  will  have  a  stick  of 
red  on  purpose  to  seal  to  you  with." 

"  And  who  do  you  intend  shall  have  the  benefit 
of  the  other  colors  ?  "  inquired  her  mother. 

"  I  declare,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  I 
never  thought  of  that ;  I  am  afraid  they  will  have 
to  go  to  you.  You  must  not  mind,  mamma,  if  you 
get  green  and  blue  and  yellow  seals  once  in  a 
while." 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  submit  myself  to  it  with  a 
good  grace,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery.  "  But  come, 
my  dear,  have  we  got  all  that  we  want  ?  This  desk 
has  been  very  long  in  furnishing." 

"  You  haven't  given  me  a  seal  yet,  mamma." 

"  Seals  !  There  are  a  variety  before  you  ;  see  if 
you  can  find  one  that  you  like.  By  the  way,  you 
cannot  seal  a  letter,  can  you  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  again  ; 
"  that  is  another  of  the  things  I  have  got  to  learn." 

"  Then  I  think  you  had  better  have  some  wafers 
in  the  mean  time." 

While  Ellen  was  picking  out  her  seal,  which  took 
not  a  little  time,  Mrs.  Montgomery  laid  in  a  good 
supply  of  wafers  of  all  sorts  ;  and  then  went  on 
further  to  furnish  the  desk  with  an  ivory  leaf-cutter, 
a  paper-folder,  a  pounce-box,  a  ruler,  and  a  neat 


48  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

little  silver  pencil ;  also,  some  drawing-pencils, 
India-rubber,  and  sheets  of  drawing-paper.  She 
took  a  sad  pleasure  in  adding  everything  she  could 
think  of  that  might  be  for  Ellen's  future  use  or  ad- 
vantage ;  but  as  with  her  own  hands  she  placed  in 
the  desk  one  thing  after  another,  the  thought  crossed 
her  mind  how  Ellen  would  make  drawings  with 
those  very  pencils,  on  those  very  sheets  of  paper, 
which  her  eyes  would  never  see  !  She  turned  away 
with  a  sigh,  and  receiving  Ellen's  seal  from  her 
hand,  put  that  also  in  its  place.  Ellen  had  chosen 
one  with  her  own  name. 

"  Will  you  send  these  things  at  once  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Montgomery  ;  "  I  particularly  wish  to  have  them 
at  home  as  early  in  the  day  as  possible." 

The  man  promised.  Mrs.  Montgomery  paid  the 
bill,  and  she  and  Ellen  left  the  store. 

They  walked  a  little  way  in  silence. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you,  mamma,"  said  Ellen. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Montgomery,  returning  the  pressure  of  her  hand ; 
""  I  know  all  that  you  would  say." 

There  was  as  much  sorrow  as  joy  at  that  moment 
in  the  heart  of  the  joyfullest  of  .the  two. 

"  Where  are  we  going  now,  mamma  ?  "  said  Ellen 
again,  after  a  while. 

"  I  wished  and  intended  to  have  gone  to  St. 
Clair  and  Fleury's,  to  get  you  some  merino  and 
other  things  ;  but  we  have  been  detained  so  long 
already  that  I  think  I  had  better  go  home.  I  feel 
somewhat  tired." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  dear  mamma,"  said  Ellen, — 
"  I  am  afraid  I  kept  you  too  long  about  that  desk." 

'"  You  did  not  keep  me,  daughter,  any  longer  than 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  49 

I  chose  to  be  kept.  But  I  think  I  will  go  home 
now,  and  take  the  chance  of  another  fine  day  for 
the  merino." 

CHAPTER   IV. 

How  can  I  live  without  thee  !  how  forego 

Thy  sweet  converse,  and  love  so  dearly  joined. — Milton. 

When  dinner  was  over  and  the  table  cleared 
away,  the  mother  and  daughter  were  left,  as  they 
always  loved  to  be,  alone.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  already  somewhat  dark,  for  clouds  had 
gathered  over  the  beautiful  sky  of  the  morning,  and 
the  wind  rising  now  and  then  made  its  voice  heard. 
Mrs.  Montgomery  was  lying  on  the  sofa  as  usual, 
seemingly  at  ease ;  and  Ellen  was  sitting  on  a  little 
bench  before  the  fire,  very  much  at  her  ease  indeed 
without  any  seeming  about  it.  She  smiled  as  she 
met  her  mother's  eyes. 

"  You  have  made  me  very  happy  to-day,  mamma." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,  my  dear  child.  I  hoped  I  should. 
I  believe  the  whole  affair  has  given  me  as  much 
pleasure,  Ellen,  as  it  has  you." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Mamma,  I  will  take  the  greatest  possible  care 
of  my  new  treasures." 

"  I  know  you  will.  If  I  had  doubted  it,  Ellen, 
most  assuredly  I  should  not  have  given  them  to 
you,  sorry  as  I  should  have  been  to  leave  you  with- 
out them.  So  you  see  you  have  not  established  a 
character  for  carefulness  in  vain." 

"  And,  mamma,  I  hope  you  have  not  given  them 
to  me  in  vain,  either.     I  will  try  to  use  them  in  the 
way  that  I  know  you  wish  me  to  ;  that  will  be  the 
best  way  I  can  thank  you." 
4 


50  THE   WIDE   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Well,  I  have  left  you  no  excuse,  Ellen.  You 
know  fully  what  I  wish  you  to  do  and  to  be  ;  and 
when  I  am  away  I  shall  please  myself  with  thinking 
that  my  little  daughter  is  following  her  mother's 
wishes  ;  I  shall  believe  so,  Ellen.  You  will  not  let 
me  be  disappointed  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  mamma,''  said  Ellen,  who  was  now  in 
her  mother's  arms. 

"Well,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  in  a 
lighter  tone,  "  my  gifts  will  serve  as  reminders  for 
you  if  you  are  ever  tempted  to  forget  my  lessons. 
If  you  fail  to  send  me  letters,  or  if  those  you  send 
are  not  what  they  ought  to  be,  I  think  the  desk 
will  cry  shame  upon  you.  And  if  you  ever  go 
an  hour  with  a  hole  in  your  stocking,  or  a  tear 
in  your  dress,  or  a  string  off  your  petticoat,  I 
hope  the  sight  of  your  work-box  will  make  you 
blush." 

"  Work-box,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Oh,  I  forgot ;  you've  not  seen  that." 

"  No,  mamma  ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,  that  was  one  of  the  things  you 
most  wanted,  but  I  thought  it  best  not  to  over- 
whelm you  quite  this  morning ;  so  while  you  were 
on  an  exploring  expedition  round  the  store,  I  chose 
and  furnished  one  for  you." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma  !  "  said  Ellen  getting  up 
and  clasping  her  hands,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  I 
don't  know  what  to  say ;  I  can't  say  anything. 
Mamma,  it's  too  much." 

So  it  seemed,  for  Ellen  sat  down  and  began  to 
cry.  Her  mother  silently  reached  out  a  hand  to 
her,  which  she  squeezed  and  kissed  with  all  the 
energy  of  gratitude,  love,  and  sorrow  ;  till  gently 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  51 

drawn  by  the  same  hand  she  was  placed  again  in 
her  mother's  arms  and  upon  her  bosom.  And  in 
that  tired  resting-place  she  lay,  calmed  and  quieted, 
till  the  shades  of  afternoon  deepened  into  evening 
and  evening  into  night,  and  the  light  of  the  fire 
was  all  that  was  left  to  them. 

Though  not  a  word  had  been  spoken  for  a  long 
time,  Ellen  was  not  asleep  ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  red  glow  of  the  coals  in  the  grate,  and  she  was 
busily  thinking,  but  not  of  them.  Many  sober 
thoughts  were  passing  through  her  little  head,  and 
stirring  her  heart ;  a  few  were  of  her  new  posses- 
sions and  bright  projects — more  of  her  mother. 
She  was  thinking  how  very  very  precious  was  the 
heart  she  could  feel  beating  where  her  cheek  lay — • 
she  thought  it  was  greater  happiness  to  lie  there  than 
anything  else  in  life  could  be — she  thought  she  had 
rather  even  die  so,  on  her  mother's  breast,  than 
live  long  without  her  in  the  world — she  felt  that  in 
earth  or  in  heaven  there  was  nothing  so  dear. 
Suddenly  she  broke  the  silence. 

"  Mamma,  what  does  that  mean,  '  He  that  loveth 
father  or  mother  more  than  Me,  is  not  worthy  of 
Me '  ?." 

"  It  means  just  what  it  says.  If  you  love  any- 
body or  anything  better  than  Jesus  Christ,  you 
cannot  be  one  of  His  children.'^ 

"But,  then,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  raising  her 
head,  "  how  can  I  be  one  of  His  children  ?  I  do 
love  you  a  great  deal  better  ;  how  can  I  help  it, 
mamma  ? " 

"  You  cannot  help  it,  I  know,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Montgomery,  with  a  sigh,  "  except  by  His 
grace  who  has  promised  to  change  the  hearts  of 


5  2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD, 

His  people — to  take  away  the  heart  of  stone  and 
give  them  a  heart  of  flesh." 

"  But  is  mine  a  heart  of  stone  then,  mamma,  be- 
cause I  cannot  help  loving  you  best  ?  " 

"  Not  to  me,  dear  Ellen,"  replied  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery, pressing  closer  the  little  form  that  lay  in 
her  arms  ;  "  I  have  never  found  it  so.  But  yet  I 
know  that  the  Lord  Jesus  is  far,  far  more  worthy  of 
your  affection  than  I  am,  and  if  your  heart  were 
not  hardened  by  sin  you  would  see  Him  so  ;  it  is 
only  because  you  do  not  know  Him  that  you  love 
me  better.  Pray,  pray,  my  dear  child,  that  He 
would  take  away  the  power  of  sin,  and  show  you 
Himself  ;  that  is  all  that  is  wanting." 

"  I  will,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  tearfully.  "  Oh, 
mamma,  what  shall  I  do  without  you  ?  " 

Alas  !  Mrs.  Montgomery's  heart  echoed  the 
question  ;  she  had  no  answer. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  after  a  few  minutes,  "  can 
I  have  no  true  love  to  Him  at  all  unless  I  love 
Him  best  ?  " 

"  I  dare  not  say  that  you  can,"  answered  her 
mother  seriously. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  after  a  little,  again  rais- 
ing her  head  and  looking  her  mother  full  in  the  face, 
as  if  willing  to  apply  the  severest  test  to  this  hard 
doctrine,  and  speaking  with  an  indescribable  ex- 
pression, "  do  you  love  Him  better  than  you  do  me  ?  " 

She  knew  her  mother  loved  the  Saviour,  but  she 
thought  it  scarcely  possible  that  herself  could  have 
but  the  second  place  in  her  heart ;  she  ventured  a 
bold  question  to  prove  whether  her  mother's  prac- 
tice would  not  contradict  her  theory. 

But  Mrs.  Montgomery  answered  steadily,  "  I  do, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLE.  53 

my  daughter ;  "  and  with  a  gush  of  tears  Ellen  sunk 
her  head  again  upon  her  bosom.  She  had  no  more 
to  say ;  her  mouth  was  stopped  forever  as  to  the 
right  of  the  matter,  though  she  still  thought  it  an 
impossible  duty  in  her  own  particular  case. 

"  I  do,  indeed,  my  daughter,"  repeated  Mrs. 
Montgomery ;  "  that  does  not  make  my  love  to  you 
the  less,  but  the  more,  Ellen." 

■  "  Oh,  mamma,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  clinging  to 
her,  "  I  wish  you  would  teach  me  !  I  have  only 
you,  and  I  am  going  to  lose  you.  What  shall  I  do, 
mamma  ? " 

With  a  voice  that  strove  to  be  calm  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery answered,  "  '  I  love  them  that  love  Me, 
and  they  that  seek  Me  early  shall  find  Me.'  "  And 
after  a  minute  or  two  she  added,  "  He  who  says 
this  has  promised  too  that  He  will  \  gather  the 
lambs  with  His  arm  and  carry  them  in  His  bosom.'  " 

The  words  fell  soothingly  on  Ellen's  ear,  and  the 
slight  tremor  in  the  voice  reminded  her  also  that 
her  mother  must  not  be  agitated.  She  checked 
herself  instantly,  and  soon  lay  as  before,  quiet  and 
still  on  her  mother's  bosom,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  fire  ;  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  did  not  know  that 
when  she  now  and  then  pressed  a  kiss  upon  the 
forehead  that  lay  so  near  her  lips,  it  every  time 
brought  the  water  to  Ellen's  eyes  and  a  throb  to 
her  heart  But  after  some  half  or  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  had  passed  away,  a  sudden  knock  at  the 
door  found  both  mother  and  daughter  asleep ;  it 
had  to  be  repeated  once  or  twice  before  the  knocker 
Could  gain  attention. 

"  What  is  that,  mamma  ? "  said  Ellen,  starting  up. 

"  Somebody  at  the  door.     Open  it  quickly,  love»" 


54  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Ellen  did  so,  and  found  a  man  standing  there, 
with  his  arms  rather  full  of  sundry  packages. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  my  things  !  "  cried  Ellen,  clapping 
her  hands  ;  "  here  they  are  !  " 

The  man  placed  his  burden  on  the  table,  and 
withdrew. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  I  am  so  glad  they  are  come  !  Now 
if  I  only  had  a  light — this  is  my  desk,  I  know,  for 
it's  the  largest ;  and  I  think  this  is  my  dressing- 
box,  as  well  as  I  can  tell  by  feeling — yes,  it  is, 
here's  the  handle  on  top  ;  and  this  is  my  dear  work' 
box — not  so  big  as  the  desk,  nor  so  little  as  the 
dressing-box.  Oh,  mamma,  mayn't  I  ring  for  a 
light  ? " 

There  was  no  need,  for  a  servant  just  then  entered, 
bringing  the  wished-for  candles,  and  the  not- 
wished-for  tea.  Ellen  was  capering  about  in  the 
most  fantastic  style,  but  suddenly  stopped  short  at 
sight  of  the  tea-things,  and  looked  very  grave. 

"  Well,  mamma,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  she 
said,  after  a  pause  of  consideration  ;  "  I'll  make 
the  tea  the  first  thing,  before  I  untie  a  single  knot ; 
won't  that  be  best,  mamma  ?  Because  I  know  if  I 
once  begin  to  look  I  sha'n't  want  to  stop.  Don't 
you  think  that  is  wise,  mamma  ? " 

But  alas  !  the  fire  had  got  very  low ;  there  wa3 
no  making  the  tea  quickly,  and  the  toast  was  a 
work  of  time.  And  when  all  was  over  at  length,  it 
was  then  too  late  for  Ellen  to  begin  to  undo  pack- 
ages. She  struggled  with  impatience  a  minute  or 
two,  and  then  gave  up  the  point  very  gracefully, 
and  went  to  bed. 

She  had  a  fine  opportunity  the  next  day  to  make 
up    for    the    evening's   disappointment.      It    was 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  5^ 

cloudy  and  stormy ;  going  out  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  and  it  was  very  unlikely  that  anybody 
would  come  in.  Ellen  joyfully  allotted  the  whole, 
morning  to  the  examination  and  trial  of  her  new 
possessions ;  and  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  and 
the  room  clear  she  set  about  it.  She  first  went 
through  the  desk  and  everything  in  it,  making  a 
running  commentary  on  the  excellence,  fitness,  and 
beauty  of  all  it  contained ;  then  the  dressing-box 
received  a  share,  but  a  much  smaller  share,  of 
attention  ;  and,  lastly,  with  fingers  trembling  with 
eagerness,  she  untied  the  packthread  that  was- 
wound  round  the  work-box,  and  slowly  took  off 
cover  after  cover  •  she  almost  screamed  when  the 
last  was  removed.  The  box  was  of  satin-wood, 
beautifully  finished,  and  lined  with  crimson  silk ; 
and  Mrs.  Montgomery  had  taken  good  care  it 
should  want  nothing  that  Ellen  might  need  to  keep 
her  clothes  in  perfect  order. 

"Oh,  mamma,  how  beautiful!  Oh,  mamma, 
how  good  you  are !  Mamma,  I  promise  you  I'll 
never  be  a  slattern.  Here  is  more  cotton  than  I 
can  use  up  in  a  great  while — every  number,  I  do 
think ;  and  needles,  oh,  the  needles  !  what  a  parcel 
of  them!  and,  mamma!  what  a  lovely  scissors! 
did  you  choose  it,  mamma,  or  did  it  belong  to  the. 
box  ? " 

"  I  chose  it." 

"  I  might  have  guessed  it,  mamma,  it's  just  like 
you.  And  here's  a  thimble — fits  me  exactly  ;  and 
an  emery-bag  !  how  pretty ! — and  a  bodkin  !  this  is 
a  great  deal  nicer  than  yours,  mamma — yours  is 
decidedly  the  worse  for  wear  ; — and,  what's  this  ? — 
oh,  to  make  eyelet  holes  with,  I   know.     And  oh, 


56  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

mamma  !  here  is  almost  everything,  I  think — here 
are  tapes,  and  buttons,  and  hooks  and  eyes,  and 
darning  cotton,  and  silk-winders,  and  pins,  and  all 
sorts  of  things.     What's  this  for,  mamma  ?  " 

"  That's  a  scissors  to  cut  buttonholes  with.  Try 
it  on  that  piece  of  paper  that  lies  by  you,  and  you 
will  see  how  it  works." 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  "  said  Ellen,  "  how  very  nice  that 
is.  Well,  I  shall  take  great  pains  now  to  make  my 
buttonholes  very  handsomely." 

One  survey  of  her  riches  could  by  no  means 
satisfy  Ellen.  For  some  time  she  pleased  herself 
with  going  over  and  over  the  contents  of  the  box, 
finding  each  time  something  new  to  like.  At 
length  she  closed  it,  and  keeping  it  still  in  her  lap, 
sat  awhile  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  fire  ;  till, 
turning  toward  her  mother  she  met  her  gaze,  fixed 
mournfully,  almost  tearfully,  on  herself.  The  box 
was  instantly  shoved  aside,  and  getting  up  and 
bursting  into  tears,  Ellen  went  to  her. 

"  Oh,  dear  mother,"  she  said,  "I  wish  they  were 
all  back  in  the  store,  if  I  could  only  keep  you !  " 

Mrs.  Montgomery  answered  only  by  folding  her 
to  her  heart. 

"  Is  there  no  help  for  it,  mamma  ? " 

"There  is  none. — We  know  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God." 

"  Then  it  will  be  all  good  for  you,  mamma,  but 
what  will  it  be  for  me  ? "  And  Ellen  sobbed 
bitterly. 

"  It  will  be  all  well,  my  precious  child,  I  doubt 
not.  I  do  not  doubt  it,  Ellen.  Do  you  not  doubt 
it  either,  love  ;  but  from  the  hand  that  wounds, 
seek  the  healing.      He  wounds  that  He  may  heal. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  57 

He  does  not  afflict  willingly.  Perhaps  He  sees, 
Ellen,  that  you  never  would  seek  Him  while  you 
had  me  to  cling  to." 

Ellen  clung  to  her  at  that  moment,  yet  not  more 
than  her  mother  clung  to  her. 

"  How  happy  we  were,  mamma,  only  a  year  ago, 
— even  a  month." 

"We  have  no  continuing  city  here,"  answered 
her  mother,  with  a  sigh.  "  But  there  is  a  home, 
Ellen,  where  changes  do  not  come  ;  and  they  that 
are  once  gathered  there  are  parted  no  more  for- 
ever ;  and  all  tears  are  wiped  from  their  eyes.  I 
believe  I  am  going  fast  to  that  home ;  and  now  my 
greatest  concern  is,  that  my  little  Ellen — my 
precious  baby — may  follow  me  and  come  there 
too." 

No  more  was  said,  nor  could  be  said,  till  the 
sound  of  the  doctor's  steps  upon  the  stair  ob- 
liged each  of  them  to  assume  an  appearance  of 
composure  as  speedily  as  possible.  But  they  could 
not  succeed  perfectly  enough  to  blind  him.  He 
did  not  seem  very  well  satisfied,  and  told  Ellen  he 
believed  he  should  have  to  get  another  nurse, — he 
was  afraid  she  didn't  obey  orders. 

While  the  doctor  was  there  Ellen's  Bible  was 
brought  in ;  and  no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  it  un- 
derwent as  thorough  an  examination  as  the  boxes 
had  received.  Ellen  went  over  every  part  of  it 
with  the  same  great  care  and  satisfaction,  but 
mixed  with  a  different  feeling.  The  words  that 
caught  her  eye  as  she  turned  over  the  leaves 
seemed  to  echo  what  her  mother  had  been  say- 
ing to  her.  It  began  to  grow  dear  already.  After 
a  little  she  rose  and  brought  it  to  the  sofa. 


^3  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  with  it,  Ellen  ?  " 

f*  Oh,  yes,  mamma  ;  it  is  perfectly  beautiful,  out 
side  and  inside.  Now,  mamma,  will  you  please  ta 
write  my  name  in  this  precious  book — my  name, 
and  anything  else  you  please,  mother.  I'll  bring 
you  my  new  pen  to  write  it  with,  and  I've  got  ink 
here  ;— shall  I  ?  " 

She  brought  it ;  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  wrote 
Ellen's  name,  and  the  date  of  the  gift.  The  pen 
played  a  moment  in  her  fingers,  and  then  she  wrote 
below  the  date : 

"  '  I  love  them  that  love  Me ;  and  they  that  seek 
Me  early  shall  find  Me.'  " 

This  was  for  Ellen  ;  but  the  next  words  were  not 
for  her;  what  made  her  write  them  ? — 

" '  I  will  be  a  God  to  thee,  and  to  thy  seed  after 
thee.'  " 

They  were  written  almost  unconsciously,  and  as 
if  bowed  by  an  unseen  force,  Mrs.  Montgomery's 
head  sank  upon  the  open  page  ;  and  her  whole  soul 
went  up  with  her  petition  : 

"  Let  these  words  be  my  memorial,  that  I  have 
trusted  in  Thee.  And  oh,  when  these  miserable 
lips  are  silent  forever,  remember  the  word  unto  Thy 
servant,  upon  which  Thou  hast  caused  me  to  hope  ; 
and  be  unto  my  little  one  all  Thou  hast  been  to  me. 
Unto  Thee  lift  I  up  mine  eyes,  O  Thou  that 
dwellest  in  the  heavens  !  " 

She  raised  her  face  from  the  book,  closed  it,  and 
gave  it  silently  to  Ellen.  Ellen  had  noticed  her 
action,  but  had  no  suspicion  of  the  cause  ;  she 
supposed  that  one  of  her  mother's  frequent  feelings 
of  weakness  or  sickness  had  made  her  lean  her  head 
upon  the  Bible,  and  she  thought  no  more    about  it 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 


59 


However,  Ellen  felt  that  she  wanted  no  more  of  her 
boxes  that  day.  She  took  her  old  place  by  the  side 
of  her  mother's  sofa,  with  her  head  upon  her 
mother's  hand,  and  an  expression  of  quiet  sorrow  in 
her  face  that  it  had  not  worn  for  several  days. 

CHAPTER  V. 

My  child  is  yet  a  stranger  in  the  world, 

She  hath  not  seen  the  change  of  fourteen  years. 

Shakspearb. 

The  next  day  would  not  do  for  the  intended, 
shopping ;  nor  the  next.  The  third  day  was  nne7 
though  cool  and  windy. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  venture  out  to-dayy 
mamma  ?  "  said  Ellen 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  I  do  not  feel  quite  equal  to 
it ;  and  the  wind  is  a  great  deal  too  high  for  me 
besides." 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  is 
making  up  her  mind  to  something,  "  we  shall  have 
a  fine  day  by  and  by,  I  suppose,  if  we  wait  long 
enough  ;  we  had  to  wait  a  great  while  for  our  first 
shopping  day.  I  wish  such  another  would  come 
round." 

"  But  the  misfortune  is,"  said  her  mother,  "  that 
we  cannot  afford  to  wait.  November  will  soon  be 
here,  and  your  clothes  may  be  suddenly1  wanted 
before  they  are  ready,  if  we  do  not  bestir  ourselves. 
And  Miss  Rice  is  coming  in  a  few  days— I  ought 
to  have  the  merino  ready  for  her." 

"  What  will  you  do,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  indeed,  Ellen  ;  I  am  greatly  at 
a  loss." 

"  Couldn't  papa  get  the  stuffs  for  you.  mamma?  f 


60  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  No,  he's  too  busy  ;  and  besides,  he  knows  noth- 
ing at  all  about  shopping  for  me  ;  he  would  be  sure 
to  bring  me  exactly  what  I  do  not  want.  I  tried 
that  once." 

"  Well,  what  will  you  do,  mamma  ?  Is  there  no- 
body else  you  could  ask  to  get  the  things  for  you  ? 
Mrs.  Foster  would  do  it,  mamma  !  " 

"  I  know  she  would,  and  I  should  ask  her  with- 
out any  difficulty,  but  she  is  confined  to  her  room 
with  a  cold.  I  see  nothing  for  it  but  to  be  patient 
and  let  things  take  their  course,  though  if  a  favor- 
able opportunity  should  offer  you  would  have  to  go, 
clothes  or  no  clothes  ;  it  would  not  do  to  lose  the 
chance  of  a  good  escort." 

And  Mrs.  Montgomery's  face  showed  that  this 
possibility,  of  Ellen's  going  unprovided,  gave  her 
some  uneasiness.     Ellen  observed  it. 

"  Never  mind  me,  dearest  mother ;  don't  be  in 
the  least  worried  about  my  clothes.  You  don't 
know  how  little  I  think  of  them  or  care  for  them. 
It's  no  matter  at  all  whether  I  have  them  or  not." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  smiled,  and  passed  her  hand 
fondly  over  her  little  daughter's  head,  but  presently 
resumed  her  anxious  look  out  of  the  window. 

"  Mamma  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen,  suddenly  starting 
up,  "  a  bright  thought  has  just  come  into  my  head  ! 
/'//  do  it  for  you,  mamma  !  " 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  the  merino  and  things  for  you,  mamma. 
You  needn't  smile, — I  will,  indeed,  if  you  will  let 
me?" 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  "  I  don't 
doubt  you  would  if  good  will  only  were  wanting ; 
but  a  great  deal  of  skill  and  experience  is  necessary 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  61 

for  a  shopper,  and  what  would  you  do  without 
either  ? " 

"  But  see,  mamma,"  pursued  Ellen, eagerly,  "I'll 
tell  you  how  I'll  manage,  and  I  know  I  can  manage 
very  well.  You  tell  me  exactly  what  colored  merino 
you  want,  and  give  me  a  little  piece  to  show  me  how 
fine  it  should  be,  and  tell  me  what  price  you  wish  to 
give,  and  then  I'll  go  to  the  store  and  ask  them  to 
show  me  different  pieces,  you  know,  and  if  I  see  any 
I  think  you  would  like,  I'll  ask  them  to  give  me  a 
little  bit  of  it  to  show  you;  and  then  I'll  bring  it 
home,  and  if  you  like  it,  you  can  give  me  the  money, 
and  tell  me  how  many  yards  you  want,  and  I  can  go 
back  to  the  store  and  get  it.  Why  can't  I, 
mamma  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  could ;  but,  my  dear  child,  I  am 
afraid  you  wouldn't  like  the  business." 

"  Yes,  I  should ;  indeed,  mamma,  I  should  like 
it  dearly  if  I  could  help  you  so.  Will  you  let  me 
try,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like,  my  child,  to  venture  you  alone  on 
such  an  errand,  among  crowds  of  people  ;  I  should 
be  uneasy  about  you." 

"  Dear  mamma,  what  would  the  crowds  of  people 
do  to  me  ?  I  am  not  a  bit  afraid.  You  know, 
mamma,  I  have  often  taken  walks  alone, — that's 
nothing  new ;  and  what  harm  could  come  to  me 
while  I  am  in  the  store  ?  You  needn't  be  the  least 
uneasy  about  me  ; — may  I  go  ?  " 

Mrs.  Montgomery  smiled,  but  was  silent. 

"  May  I  go,  mamma  ?  "  repeated  Ellen.  "  Let 
me  go  at  least  and  try  what  I  can  do.  What  do 
you  say,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  my  daughter,  but  I 


b2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

am  in  difficulty  on  either  hand.     I   will  let  you  g<\ 
and  see  what  you  can   do.     It  would  be   a  great 
relief  to  me  to  get  this  merino  by  any  means." 
"  Then  shall  I  go  right  away,  mamma  ?  " 
"  As  well  now  as  ever.      You   are   not   afraid  of 
the  wind  ? " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Ellen  ;  and  away  she 
scampered  upstairs  to  get  ready.  With  eager  haste 
she  dressed  herself;  then  with  great  care  and  par- 
ticularity took  her  mother's  instructions  as  to  the 
article  wanted  ;  and  finally  set  out,  sensible  that 
a  great  trust  was  reposed  in  her,  and  feeling  busy 
and  important  accordingly.  But  at  the  very  bottom 
of  Ellen's  heart  there  was  a  little  secret  doubtful- 
ness respecting  her  undertaking.  She  hardly  knew 
it  was  there,  but  then  she  couldn't  tell  what  it  was 
that  made  her  fingers  so  inclined  to  be  tremulous 
while  she  was  dressing,  and  that  made  her  heart 
beat  quicker  than  it  ought,  or  than  was  pleasant,  and 
one  of  her  cheeks  so  much  hotter  than  the  other. 
However,  she  set  forth  upon  her  errand  with  a  very 
brisk  step,  which  she  kept  up  till  on  turning  a 
corner  she  came  in  sight  of  the  place  she  was  go- 
ing to.  Without  thinking  much  about  it,  Ellen  had 
directed  her  steps  to  St.  Clair  and  Fleury's.  It  was 
one  of  the  largest  and  best  stores  in  the  city,  and 
the  one  she  knew  where  her  mother  generally  made 
her  purchases ;  and  it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  it 
might  not  be  the  best  for  her  purpose  on  this  oc- 
casion. But  her  steps  slackened  as  soon  as  she 
came  in  sight  of  it,  and  continued  to  slacken  as  she 
drew  nearer,  and  she  went  up  the  broad  flight  of 
marble  steps  in  front  of  the  store  very  slowly  in- 
deed, though  they  were   exceeding  low  and  easy. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  C3 

Pleasure  was  not  certainly  the  uppermost  feeling  in 
her  mind  now ;  yet  she  never  thought  of  turning 
back.  She  knew  that  if  she  could  succeed  in  the 
object  of  her  mission,  her  mother  would  be  relieved 
from  some  anxiety ;  that  was  enough ;  she  was 
bent  on  accomplishing  it. 

Timidly  she  entered  the  large  hall  of  entrance. 
It  was  full  of  people,  and  the  buzz  of  business  was 
heard  on  all  sides.  Ellen  had  for  some  time 
past  seldom  gone  a-shopping  with  her  mother,  and 
had  never  been  in  this  store  but  once  or  twice 
before.  She  had  not  the  remotest  idea  where,  or 
in  what  apartment  of  the  building,  the  merino 
counter  was  situated,  and  she  could  see  no  one  to 
speak  to.  She  stood  irresolute  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  busily  engaged 
with  somebody  else  ;  and  whenever  an  opening  on 
one  side  or  another  appeared  to  promise  her  ajffl  op- 
portunity, it  was  sure  to  be  filled  up  before^she 
could  reach  it,  and,  disappointed  and  abashed,  she 
would  return  to  her  old  station  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  Clerks  frequently  passed  her,  crossing  the 
store  in  all  directions,  but  they  were  always  bus- 
tling along  in  a  great  hurry  of  business ;  they  did 
not  seem  to  notice  her  at  all,  and  were  gone  before 
poor  Ellen  could  get  her  mouth  open  to  speak  to 
them.  She  knew  well  enough  now,  poor  child, 
what  it  was  that  made  her  cheeks  burn  as  they  did, 
and  her  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  burst  its  bounds. 
She  felt  confused,  and  almost  confounded,  by  the 
incessant  hum  of  voices,  and  moving  crowd  of 
strange  people  all  around  her,  while  her  little  figure 
stood  alone  and  unnoticed  in  the  midst  of  them ; 
and  there  seemed  no  prospect  that  she   would  be 


64  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

able  to  gain  the  ear  or  the  eye  of  a  single  person. 
Once  she  determined  to  accost  a  man  she  saw  ad- 
vancing toward  her  from  a  distance,  and  actually 
made  up  to  him  for  the  purpose,  but  with  a  hur- 
ried bow,  and  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss !  "  he 
brushed  past.  Ellen  almost  burst  into  tears.  She 
longed  to  turn  and  run«  out  of  the  store,  but  a  faint 
hope  remaining,  and  an  unwillingness  to  give  up 
her  undertaking,  kept  her  fast.  At  length  one  of 
the  clerks  in  the  desk  observed  her,  and  remarked 
to  Mr.  St.  Clair  who  stood  by,  "  There  is  a  little 
girl,  sir,  who  seems  to  be  looking  for  something,  or 
waiting  for  somebody  ;  she  has  been  standing  there 
a  good  while."  Mr.  St.  Clair,  upon  this,  advanced 
to  poor  Ellen's  relief. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  miss  ?  " 

But  Ellen  had  been  so  long  preparing  sentences, 
trying  to  utter  them  and  failing  in  the  attempt,  that 
now;  r.when  an  opportunity  to  speak  and  be  heard 
was  given  her,  the  power  of  speech  seemed  to  be 
gone. 

"  Do  you  wish  anything,  miss  ? "  inquired  Mr. 
St.  Clair  again. 

"  Mother  sent  me,"  stammered  Ellen, — "  I  wish, 
if  you  please,  sir, — mamma  wished  me  to  look  at 
merinoes,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Is  your  mamma  in  the  store  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  "  she  is  ill,  and  cannot 
come  out,  and  she  sent  me  to  look  at  merinoes  for 
her,  if  you  please,  sir." 

"Here,  Saunders,"  said  Mr.  St.  Clair,  "show 
this  young  lady  the  merinoes." 

Mr.  Saunders  made  his  appearance  from  among 
a  little  group  of  clerks,  with  whom  he  had  been  in- 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  65 

dulging  in  a  few  jokes  by  way  of  relief  from  the 
tedium  of  business.  "  Come  this  way,"  he  said  to 
Ellen  ;  and  sauntering  before  her,  with  a  rather  dis- 
satisfied air,  led  the  way  out  of  the  entrance  hall 
into  another  and  much  larger  apartment.  There 
were  plenty  of  people  here  too,  and  just  as  busy  as 
those  they  had  quitted.  Mr.  Saunders  having 
brought  Ellen  to  the  merino  counter,  placed  him- 
self  behind  it ;  and  leaning  over  it  and  fixing  his 
eyes  carelessly  upon  her,  asked  what  she  wanted 
to  look  at.  His  tone  and  manner  struck  Ellen  most 
unpleasantly,  and  made  her  again  wish  herself  out 
of  the  store.  He  was  a  tall  lank  young  man,  with 
a  quantity  of  fair  hair  combed  down  on  each  side 
of  his  face,  a  slovenly  exterior,  and  the  most  dis- 
agreeable pair  of  eyes,  Ellen  thought,  she  had  ever 
beheld.  She  could  not  bear  to  meet  them,  and 
cast  down  her  own.  Their  look  was  bold,  ill-bred, 
and  ill-humored  ;  and  Ellen  felt,  though  she  couldn't 
have  told  why,  that  she  need  not  expect  either  kind- 
ness or  politeness  from  him. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see,  little  one  ? "  inquired 
this  gentleman,  as  if  he  had  a  business  on  hand  he 
would  like  to  be  rid  of.  Ellen  heartily  wished  he 
was  rid  of  it,  and  she  too.  "  Merinoes,  if  you 
please,"  she  answered,  without  looking  up. 

"  Well,  what  kind  of  merinoes  ?  Here  are  all 
sorts,  and  descriptions  of  merinoes,  and  I  can't  pull 
them  all  down,  you  know,  for  you  to  look  at.  What 
kind  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  without  looking,"  said  Ellen, 
''won't  you  please  to  show  me  some  ? " 

He  tossed  down  several  pieces  upon  the  counteTj 
and  tumbled  them  about  before  her. 


66  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  is  that  anything  like  what 
you  want  ?  There's  a  pink  one, — and  there's  a  blue 
one, — and  there's  a  green  one.     Is  that  the  kind  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  kind,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  but  this  isn't 
the  color  I  want." 

"  What  color  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Something  dark,  if  you  please." 

"  Well,  there,  that  green's  dark ;  won't  that  do  ? 
See,  that  would  make  up  very  pretty  for  you." 

"No,"  said  Ellen,  "mamma  don't  like  green." 

"  Why  don't  she  come  and  choose  her  stuffs  her- 
self, then  ?     What  color  does  she  like  ? " 

"  Dark  blue,  or  dark  brown,  or  a  nice  gray,  would 
do,"  said  Ellen,  "  if  it  is  fine  enough." 

"  *  Dark  blue,'  or  '  dark  brown,'  or  a  '  nice  gray,' 
eh  ?  Well,  she's  pretty  easy  to  suit.  A  dark  blue 
I've  showed  you  already, — what's  the  matter  with 
that  ? " 

"  It  isn't  dark  enough,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  discontentedly,  pulling  down 
another  piece,  "  how'll  that  do  ?  That's  dark 
enough." 

..  It  was  a  fine  and  beautiful  piece,  very  different 
from  those  he  had  shown  her  at  first.  Even  Ellen 
could  see  that,  and  fumbling  for  her  little  pattern 
of  merino,  she  compared  it  with  the  piece.  They 
agreed  perfectly  as  to  fineness. 

"  What  is  the  price  of  this  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
trembling  hope  that  she  was  going  to  be  rewarded 
by  success  for  all  the  trouble  of  her  enterprise. 

"  Two  dollars  a  yard." 

Her  hopes  and  her  countenance  fell  together. 
••That's  too  high,"  she   said,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Then  take  this  other  blue  ;  come, — it's  a  great 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  67 

deal  prettier  than  that  dark  one,  and  not  so  dear ; 
and  I  know  your  mother  will  like  it  better." 

Ellen's  cheeks  were  tingling  and  her  heart  throb- 
bing, but  she  couldn't  bear  to  give  up. 

"  Would  you  be  so  good  as  to  show  me  some 
gray?" 

He  slowly  and  ill-humoredly  complied,  and  took 
down  an  excellent  piece  of  dark  gray,  which  Ellen 
fell  in  love  with  at  once ;  but  she  was  again  disap* 
pointed  ;  it  was  fourteen  shillings. 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  take  that,  take  something 
else,"  said  the  man;  "you  can't  have  everything 
at  once  ;  if  you  will  have  cheap  goods,  of  course 
you  can't  have  the  same  quality  that  you  like ;  but 
now  here's  this  other  blue,  only  twelve  shillings, 
and  I'll  let  you  have  it  for  ten  if  you'll  take  it." 

"  No,  it  is  too  light  and  too  coarse,"  said  Ellen, 
"  mamma  wouldn't  like  it." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  he,  seizing  her  pattern  and 
pretending  to  compare  it ;  "  it's  quite  as  fine  as  this, 
if  that's  all  you  want." 

"  Could  you,"  said  Ellen,  timidly,  "  give  me  a 
little  bit  of  this  gray  to  show  to  mamma  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  he,  impatiently,  tossing  over  the 
cloths  and  throwing  Ellen's  pattern  on  the  floor; 
"  we  can't  cut  up  our  goods  ;  if  people  don't 
choose  to  buy  of  us  they  may  go  somewhere  else, 
and  if  you  cannot  decide  upon  anything,  I  must  go 
and  attend  to  those  that  can.  I  can't  wait  here  all 
day." 

"*  What's  the  matter,  Saunders  ? "  said  one  of  his 
brother  clerks,  passing  him. 

"Why,  I've  been  here  this  half  hour  showing 
cloths  to  a  child  that  doesn't  know  merino  from  a 


68  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

sheep's  back,"  said  he,  laughing.  And  some  other 
customers  coming  up  at  the  moment,  he  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  and  left  Ellen  to  attend  to 
them. 

Ellen  stood  a  moment  stock-still,  just  where  he 
had  left  her,  struggling  with  her  feelings  of  morti- 
fication; she  could  not  endure  to  let  them  be 
seen.  Her  face  was  on  fire  ;  her  head  was  dizzy. 
She  could  not  stir  at  first,  and  in  spite  of  her 
utmost  efforts  she  could  not  command  back  one  or 
two  rebel  tears  that  forced  their  way  ;  she  lifted 
her  hand  to  her  face  to  remove  them  as  quietly  as 
possible.  "  What  is  all  this  about,  my  little  girl  ? "  said 
a  strange  voice  at  her  side.  Ellen  started,  and  turned 
her  face,  with  the  tears  but  half  wiped  away,  toward 
the  speaker.  It  was  an  old  gentleman,  an  odd  old 
gentleman,  too,  she  thought;  one  she  certainly 
would  have  been  rather  shy  of  if  she  had  seen  him 
under  other  circumstances.  But  though  his  face 
was  odd,  it  looked  kindly  upon  her,  and  it  was  a 
kind  tone  of  voice  in  which  his  question  had  been 
put ;  so  he  seemed  to  her  like  a  friend.  "  What  is 
all  this  ? "  repeated  the  old  gentleman.  Ellen 
began  to  tell  what  it  was,  but  the  pride  which  had 
forbidden  her  to  weep  before  strangers  gave  way  at 
one  touch  of  sympathy,  and  she  poured  out  tears 
much  faster  than  words  as  she  related  her  story,  so 
that  it  was  some  little  time  before  the  old  gentle- 
man could  get  a  clear  notion  of  her  case.  He 
Waited  very  patiently  till  she  had  finished  ;  but 
then  he  set  himself  in  good  earnest  about  righting 
the  wrong.  "  Hallo  !  you,  sir  !  "  he  shouted,  in  a 
voice  that  made  everybody  look  round ;  "  you 
merino  man  !    come  and  show  your  goods  :  why 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  69 

aren't  you  at  your  post,  sir  ? " — as  Mr.  Saunders 
came  up  with  an  altered  countenance — "here's  a 
young  lady  you've  left  standing  unattended  to  I 
don't  know  long ;  are  these  your  manners  ?  " 

"  The  young  lady  did  not  wish  anything,  I  be- 
lieve, sir,"  returned  Mr.  Saunders,  softly. 

"  You  know  better,  you  scoundrel,"  retorted  the 
old  gentleman,  who  was  in  a  great  passion  •  "  I 
saw  the  whole  matter  with  my  own  eyes.  You  are 
a  disgrace  to  the  store,  sir,  and  deserve  to  be  sent 
out  of  it,  which  you  are  like  enough  to  be." 

"  I  really  thought,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Saunders, 
smoothly, — for  he  knew  the  old  gentleman,  and 
knew  very  well  he  was  a  person  that  must  not  be 
offended, — "  I  really  thought — I  was  not  aware,  sir, 
that  the  young  lady  had  any  occasion  for  my 
services." 

"Well,  show  your  wares,  sir,  and  hold  your 
tongue.     Now,  my  dear,  what  did  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  a  little  bit  of  this  gray  merino,  sir,  to 
show  to  mamma; — I  couldn't  buy  it,  you  know,  sir, 
until  I  found  out  whether  she  would  like  it." 

"  Cut  a  piece,  sir,  without  any  words,"  said 
the  old  gentleman.     Mr.  Saunders  obeyed. 

"  Did  you  like  this  best  ?  "  pursued  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  I  liked  this  dark  blue  very  much,  sir,  and  I 
thought  mamma  would ;  but  it's  too  high." 

"  How  much  is  it !  "  inquired  he. 

"  Fourteen  shillings,"  replied  Mr.  Saunders. 

"  He  said  it  was  two  dollars  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen, 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  the  crest-fallen  Mr.  Saun- 
ders, "  the  young  lady  mistook  me  ;  I  was  speak- 
ing of  another  piece  when  I  said  two  dollars." 


70  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  He  said  this  was  two  dollars,  and  the  graj 
fourteen  shillings,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Is  the  gray  fourteen  shillings  ?  "  inquired  the 
old  gentleman. 

"  I  think  not,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Saunders — "  I 
believe  not,  sir, — I  think  it's  only  twelve, — I'll 
inquire,  if  you  please,  sir." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  know  it 
was  only  twelve — I  know  your  tricks,  sir.  Cut  a 
piece  off  the  blue.  Now,  my  dear,  are  there  any 
more  pieces  of  which  you  would  like  to  take  pat- 
terns, to  show  your  mother  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  overjoyed  Ellen ;  "  I  sure  she 
will  like  one  of  these." 

"  Now,  shall  we  go,  then  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  should  like 
to  have  my  bit  of  merino  that  I  brought  from  home ; 
mamma  wanted  me  to  bring  it  back  again." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  That  gentleman  threw  it  on  the  floor." 

"  Do  you  hear,  sir  ? "  said  the  old  gentleman ; 
"  find  it  directly." 

Mr.  Saunders  found  and  delivered  it,  after  stoop- 
ing in  search  of  it  till  he  was  very  red  in  the  face ; 
and  he  was  left,  wishing  heartily  that  he  had  some 
safe  means  of  revenge,  and  obliged  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  none  was  within  his  reach,  and 
that  he  must  stomach  his  indignity  in  the  best 
manner  he  could.  But  Ellen  and  her  protector  went 
forth  most  joyously  together  from  the  store. 

"  Do  you  live  far  from  here  ?  "  asked  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  s-*d  Ellen,  "  not  very ;  it's  only 
at  Green's  Hotel,  in  Southing  Street." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  7 1 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  he,  "  and  when  your 
mother  has  decided  which  merino  she  will  have, 
we'll  come  right  back  and  get  it.  I  do  not  want  to 
trust  you  again    to  the  mercy  of  that  saucy  clerk." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir  !  "  said  Ellen,  "  that  is  just 
what  I  was  afraid  of.  But  I  shall  be  giving  you 
a  great  deal  of  trouble,  sir,"  she  added,  in  another 
tone. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I 
can't  be  troubled,  so  you  needn't  say  anything  about 
that." 

They  went  gayly  along — Ellen's  heart  about  five 
times  as  light  as  the  one  with  which  she  had  trav- 
eled that  very  road  a  little  while  before.  Her  old 
friend  was  in  a  very  cheerful  mood  too,  for  he  as- 
sured Ellen  laughingly  that  it  was  of  of  no  manner 
of  use  for  her  to  be  in  a  hurry,  for  he  could  not 
possibly  set  off  and  skip  to  Green's  Hotel,  as  she 
seemed  inclined  to  do.  They  got  there  at  last 
Ellen  showed  the  old  gentleman  into  the  parlor, 
and  ran  upstairs  in  great  haste  to  her  mother.  But 
in  a  few  minutes  she  came  down  again,  with  a  very 
April  face,  for  smiles  were  playing  in  every  feature, 
while  the  tears  were  yet  wet  upon   her  cheeks. 

"  Mamma  hopes  you'll  take  the  trouble,  sir,  to 
come  upstairs,"  she  said,  seizing  his  hand ;  "  she 
wants  to  thank  you  herself,  sir." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  the  old  gentleman, — 
"  it  is  not  necessary  at  all ;  "  but  he  followed  hi? 
little  conductor  nevertheless,  to  the  door  of  hex 
mother's  room,  into  which  she  ushered  him  with 
great  satisfaction. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  was  looking  very  ill — he  saw 
that  at  a  glance.     She  rose  from  her  sofa,  and  ex- 


y-j  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

tending  her  hand,  thanked  him  with  glistening  eyes 
for  his  kindness  to  her  child. 

"  I  don't  deserve  any  thanks,  ma'am,"  said  the 
old  gentleman  ;  "  I  suppose  my  little  friend  has 
told  you  what  made  us  acquainted  ?  " 

"  She  gave  me  a  very  short  account  of  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  She  was  very  disagreeably  tried,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "  I  presume  you  do  not  need  to  be  told, 
ma'am,  that  her  behavior  was  such  as  would  have 
become  any  years.  I  assure  you,  ma'am,  if  I  had 
had  no  kindness  in  my  composition  to  feel  for 
the  child,  my  honor  as  a  gentleman  would  have 
made  me  interfere  for  the  lady." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  smiled,  but  looked  through 
glistening  eyes  again  on  Ellen.  "  I  am  very  glad 
to  hear  it,"  she  replied.  "  I  was  very  far  from 
thinking,  when  I  permitted  her  to  go  on  this  errand, 
that  I  was  exposing  her  to  anything  more  serious 
than  the  annoyance  a  timid  child  would  feel  at  hav- 
ing to  transact  business  with  strangers." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  but 
it  isn't  a  sort  of  thing  that  should  be  often  done. 
There  are  all  sorts  of  people  in  this  world,  and  a 
little  one  alone  in  a  crowd  is  in  danger  of  being 
trampled  upon." 

Mrs.  Montgomery's  heart  answered  this  with  an 
involuntary  pang.  He  saw  the  shade  that  passed 
over  her  face  as  she  said  sadly  : 

"  I  know  it,  sir,  and  it  was  with  strong  unwilling- 
ness that  I  allowed  Ellen  this  morning  to  do  as  she 
had  proposed  ;  but  in  truth  I  was  but  making  a 
choice  between  difficulties.  I  am  very  sorry  I  chose 
as  I  did.     If  you  are  a  father,  sir,  you  know  better 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD,  73 

than  I  can  tell  you,  how  grateful  I  am  for  your  kind 
interference." 

"  Say  nothing  about  that,  ma'am  ;  the  less  the 
better.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  not  good  for  much 
now,  except  to  please  young  people.  I  think  my- 
self best  off  when  I  have  the  best  chance  to  do  that. 
So  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  choose  that  merino, 
and  let  Miss  Ellen  and  me  go  and  dispatch  our 
business,  you  will  be  conferring  and  not  receiving 
a  favor.  And  any  other  errand  that  you  please  to 
entrust  her  with  I'll  undertake  to  see  her  safe 
through." 

His  look  and  manner  obliged  Mrs.  Montgomery 
-  to  take  him  at  his  word.     A  very  short  examination 
of  Ellen's  patterns  ended  in  favor  of  the  gray  me- 
rino ;  and  Ellen  was  commissioned  not  only  to  get 
,  and  pay  for  this,  but  also  to  choose  a  dark  dress  of 
j  the  same  stuff,    and   enough    of   a   certain    article 
called  nankeen  for  a  coat  ;  Mrs.  Montgomery  truly 
opining  that   the  old  gentleman's  care    would   do 
more  than  see  her  scathless,— that  it  would  have 
some  regard  to  the  justness  and  prudence  of  her 
purchases. 

In  great  glee  Ellen  set  forth  again  with  her  new 
old  friend.  Her  hand  was  fast  in  his,  and  her 
tongue  ran  very  freely,  for  her  heart  was  completely 
opened  to  him.  He  seemed  as  pleased  to  listen  as 
she  was  to  talk ;  and  by  little  and  little  Ellen  told 
him  all  her  history;  the  troubles  that  had  come 
upon  her  in  consequence  of  her  mother's  illness,  and 
her  intended  journey  and  prospects. 

That  was  a  happy  day  to  Ellen.  They  returned 
to  St.  Clair  and  Fleury's,  bought  the  gray  merino, 
and  the  nankeen,  and  a  dark  brown  merino  for  a 


74  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

4ress„  "  Do  you  want  only  one  of  these  ?  "  asked 
the  old  gentleman. 

"  Mamma  said  only  one,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  that  will 
last  me  all  the  winter." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  think  two  will  do  better. 
Let  us  have  another  off  the  same  piece,  Mr.  Shop- 
man." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  mamma  won't  like  it  sir,"  said 
Ellen,  gently. 

"  Pho,  pho,"  said  he,  "  your  mother  has  nothing 
to  do  with  this ;  this  is  my  affair."  He  paid  for 
it  accordingly.  "  Now,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  he,  when 
they  left  the  store,  "  have  you  got  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  good  warm  winter  bonnet  ?  For  its  as 
cold  as  the  mischief  up  there  in  Thirlwall ;  your 
pasteboard  things  won't  do  ;  if  you  don't  take  good 
care  of  your  ears  you  will  lose  them  some  fine 
frosty  day.  You  must  quilt  and  pad,  and  all  sorts 
of  things,  to  keep  alive  and  comfortable.  So  you 
haven't  a  hood,  eh  ?  Do  you  think  you  and  I 
could  make  out  to  choose  one  that  your  mother 
would  think  wasn't  quite  a  fright  ?  Come  this  way, 
and  let  us  see.  If  she  don't  like  it  she  can  give  it 
away,  you  know." 

He  led  the  delighted  Ellen  into  a  milliner's  shop, 
and  after  turning  over  a  great  many  different 
articles  chose  her  a  nice  warm  hood,  or  quilted 
bonnet.  It  was  of  dark  blue  silk,  well  made  and 
pretty.  He  saw  with  great  satisfaction  that  it 
fitted  Ellen  well,  and  would  protect  her  ears  nicely ; 
and  having  paid  for  it  and  ordered  it  home,  he  and 
Ellen  sallied  forth  into  the  street  again.  But  he 
wouldn't  let  her  thank  him.  "  It  is  just  the  very 
thing  I    wanted,  sir,"  said  Ellen ;  "  mamma  was 


THE   WWII,  WIDE   WORLD.  75 

speaking  about  it  the  other  day,  and  she  did  not 
see  how  I  was  ever  to  get  one,  because  she  did  not 
feel  at  all  able  to  go  out,  and  I  could  not  get  one 
myself  ;  I  know  she'll  like  it  very  much." 

"  Would  you  rather  have  something  for  yourself 
or  your  mother,  Ellen,  if  you  could  choose,  and 
have  but  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  for  mamma,  sir,"  said  Ellen — "  a  great 
deal !  " 

"  Come  in  here,"  said  he  ;  "  let  us  see  if  we  can 
find  anything  she  would  like." 

It  was  a  grocery  store.  After  looking  about  a 
little,  the  old  gentleman  ordered  sundry  pounds  of 
figs  and  white  grapes  to  be  packed  up  in  papers; 
and  being  now  very  near  home,  he  took  one  parcel 
and  Ellen  the  other,  till  they  came  to  the  door  of 
Green's  Hotel,  where  he  committed  both  to  her 
care. 

"  Won't  you  come  in,  sir  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  can't  this  time — I  must  go 
home  to  dinner." 

"  And  sha'n't  I  see  you  any  more,  sir  ? "  said 
Ellen,  a  shade  coming  over  her  face,  which  a  minute 
before  had  been  quite  joyous. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  kindly — "  I  hope 
you  will.  You  shall  hear  from  me  again  at  any 
rate,  I  promise  you.  We've  spent  one  pleasant 
morning  together,  haven't  we  ?  Good-bye,  good- 
bye." 

Ellen's  hands  were  full,  but  the  old  gentleman 
took  them  in  both  his,  packages  and  all,  and  shook 
them  after  a  fashion,  and  again  bidding  her  good- 
bye, walked  away  down  the  street. 

The  next  morning  Ellen  and  her  mother  were 


76  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

sitting  quietly  together,  and  Ellen  had  not  finished 
her  accustomed  reading,  when  there  came  a  knock 
at  the  door.  "  My  old  gentleman  !  "  cried  Ellen, 
as  she  sprung  to  open  it.  No, — there  was  no  old 
gentleman,  but  a  black  man  with  a  brace  of  beauti- 
ful woodcock  in  his  hand.  He  bowed  very  civilly, 
and  said  he  had  been  ordered  to  leave  the  birds 
with  Miss  Montgomery.  Ellen,  in  surprise,  took 
them  from  him,  and  likewise  a  note  which  he  de- 
livered into  her  hand.  Ellen  asked  from  whom 
the  birds  came,  but  with  another  polite  bow  the 
man  said  the  note  would  inform  her,  and  went 
away.  In  great  curiosity  she  carried  them  and  the 
note  to  her  mother,  to  whom  the  latter  was  directed. 
It  read  thus  : — 

"  Will  Mrs.  Montgomery  permit  an  old  man  to 
please  himself  in  his  own  way,  by  showing  his 
regard  for  her  little  daughter  ?  And  not  feel  that 
he  is  taking  a  liberty.  The  birds  are  for  Miss 
Ellen." 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen,  jumping  with 
delight,  "  did  you  ever  such  a  dear  old  gentleman  ? 
Now  I  know  what  he  meant  yesterday,  when  he 
asked  me  if  I  would  rather  have  something  for  my- 
self or  for  you.  How  kind  he  is  !  to  do  just  the 
very  thing  for  me  that  he  knows  would  give  me  the 
most  pleasure.  Now,  mamma,  these  birds  are 
mine,  you  know,  and  I  give  them  to  you.  You 
must  pay  me  a  kiss  for  them,  mamma ;  they  are 
worth  that.     Aren't  they  beauties  ? " 

"  They  are  very  fine  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery ;  "  this  is  just  the  season  for  woodcock,  and 
these  are  in  beautiful  condition." 

"  Do  you  like  woodcocks,  mamma  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  tf 

"  Yes,  very  much." 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am!"  said  Ellen.  "I'll  ask 
Sam  to  have  them  done  very  nicely  for  you,  and 
then  you  will  enjoy  them  so  much." 

The  waiter  was  called,  and  instructed  accord- 
ingly, and  to  him  the  birds  were  committed,  to  be 
delivered  to  the  care  of  the  cook. 

"Now,  mamma,"  said  Ellen,  "I  think  these 
birds  have  made  me  happy  for  all  day." 

"  Then  I  hope,  daughter,  they  will  make  you  busy 
for  all  day.  You  have  ruffles  to  hem,  and  the  skirts 
of  your  dresses  to  make ;  we  need  not  wait  for 
Miss  Rice  to  do  that ;  and  when  she  comes  you 
will  have  to  help  her,  for  I  can  do  little.  You  can't 
be  too  industrious." 

"Well,  mamma,  I  am  as  willing  as  can  be." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  pleasant  two  weeks 
to  Ellen — weeks  to  which  she  often  looked  back 
afterwards,  so  quietly  and  swiftly  the  days  fled 
away  in  busy  occupation  and  sweet  intercourse 
with  her  mother.  The  passions  which  were  apit 
enough  to  rise  in  Ellen's  mind  upon  occasion  were 
for  the  present  kept  effectually  in  check.  She 
could  not  forget  that  her  days  with  her  mother 
would  very  soon  be  at  an  end,  for  a  long  time  at 
least;  and  this  consciousness,  always  present  to 
her  mind,  forbade  even  the  wish  to  do  anything 
that  might  grieve  or  disturb  her.  Love  and  ten- 
derness had  absolute  rule  for  the  time,  and  even 
had  power  to  overcome  the  sorrowful  thoughts  that 
would  often  rise,  so  that  in  spite  of  them  peace 
reigned.  And  perhaps  both  mother  and  daughter 
enjoyed  this  interval  the  more  keenly  because  they 
knew  that  sorrow  was  at  hand. 


78  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

All  this  while  there  was  scarcely  a  day  that  the 
old  gentleman's  servant  did  not  knock  at  their 
door,  bearing  a  present  of  game.  The  second  time 
he  came  with  some  fine  larks  ;  next  was  a  superb 
grouse ;  then  woodcock  again.  Curiosity  strove 
With  astonishment  and  gratitude  in  Ellen's  mind. 
"  Mamma,"  she  said,  after  she  had  admired  the 
grouse  for  five  minutes,  "  I  cannot  rest  without 
finding  out  who  this  old  gentleman  is." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Montgomery, 
gravely,  "for  I  see  no  possible  way  of  your  do- 
ing it". 

"  Why,  mamma,  couldn't  I  ask  the  man  that 
brings  the  birds  what  his  name  is?  He  must 
know  it." 

"  Certainly  not ;  it  would  be  very  dishonorable." 

"  Would  it,  mamma  ? — why? " 

"  This  old  gentleman  has  not  chosen  to  tell  you 
his  name  ;  he  wrote  his  note  without  signing  it,  and 
his  man  has  obviously  been  instructed  not  to  dis- 
close it ;  don't  you  remember,  he  did  not  tell  it 
when  you  asked  him,  the  first  time  he  came? 
Now,  this  shows  that  the  old  gentleman  wishes  to 
keep  it  secret,  and  to  try  to  find  it  out  in  any  way 
would  be  a  very  unworthy  return  for  his  kindness." 

"  Yes,  it  wouldn't  be  doing  as  I  would  be  done 
by,  to  be  sure ;  but  would  it  be  dishonorable, 
mamma?  " 

"  Very.  It  is  very  dishonorable  to  try  to  find 
out  that  about  other  people  which  does  not  con- 
cern you,  and  which  they  wish  to  keep  from  you. 
Remember  that,  my  dear  daughter." 

"I  will,  mamma.  I'll  never  do  it,  I  promise 
you." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  79 

"  Even  in  talking  with  people,  if  you  discern  in 
them  any  unwillingness  to  speak  upon  a  subject, 
avoid  it  immediately,  provided,  of  course,  that  some 
higher  interest  do  not  oblige  you  to  go  on.  That 
is  true  politeness,  and  true  kindness,  which  are 
nearly  the  same ;  and  not  to  do  so,  I  assure  you, 
Ellen,  proves  one  wanting  in  true  honor." 

"Well,  mamma,  I  don't  care  what  his  name  is,— 
at  least  I  won't  try  to  find  out ; — but  it  does  worry 
me  that  I  cannot  thank  him.  I  wish  he  knew  how 
much  I  feel  obliged  to  him." 

"  Very  well ;  write  and  tell  him  so." 

"  Mamma ! "  said  Ellen,  opening  her  eyes  very 
wide, — "  can  I  ? — would  you  ? " 

"  Certainly, — if  you  like.  It  would  be  very 
proper." 

"  Then  I  will !  I  declare  that  is  a  good  notion. 
I'll  do  it  the  first  thing,  and  then  I  can  give  it  to 
that  man  if  he  comes  to-morrow,  as  I  suppose  he 
will.  Mamma,"  said  she,  on  opening  her  desk, 
"  how  funny  !  don't  you  remember  you  wondered 
who  I  was  going  to  write  notes  to  ?  here  is  one  now, 
mamma ;  it  is  very  lucky  I  have  got  note-paper." 

More  than  one  sheet  of  it  was  ruined  before 
Ellen  had  satisfied  herself  with  what  she  wrote.  It 
was  a  full  hour  from  the  time  she  began  when  she 
brought  the  following  note  for  her  mother's  in- 
spection : — 

"  Ellen  Montgomery  does  not  know  how  to  thank 
the  old  gentleman  who  is  so  kind  to  her.  Mamma 
enjoys  the  birds  very  much,  and  I  think  I  do  more ; 
for  I  have  the  double  pleasure  of  giving  them  to 
mamma,  and  of  eating  them  afterwards ;  but  yqur 


So  THE  WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

kindness  is  the  best  of  all.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  am  obliged  to  you,  sir,  but  I  will  always 
love  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me. 

"  Ellen  Montgomery." 

This  note  Mrs.  Montgomery  approved ;  and 
Ellen  having  with  great  care  and  great  satisfaction 
enclosed  it  in  an  envelope,  succeeded  in  sealing  it 
according  to  rule  and  very  well.  Mrs.  Montgomery 
laughed  when  she  saw  the  direction,  but  let  it  go. 
Without  consulting  her,  Ellen  had  written  on  the 
outside,  "To  the  old  gentleman."  She  sent  it  the 
next  morning  by  the  hands  of  the  same  servant,  who 
this  time  was  the  bearer  of  a  plump  partridge  "  To 
Miss  Montgomery  ; "  and  her  mind  was  a  great 
deal  easier  on  this  subject  from  that  time. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Mac.     What  is  the  night? 

JLady  M.     Almost  at  odds  with  morning,  which  is  which. 

Macbeth. 

October  was  now  far  advanced.  One  evening, 
the  evening  of  the  last  Sunday  in  the  month,  Mrs. 
Montgomery  was  lying  in  the  parlor  alone.  Ellen 
had  gone  to  bed  some  time  before  ;  and  now  in  the 
stillness  of  the  Sabbath  evening  the  ticking  of  the 
clock  was  almost  the  only  sound  to  be  heard.  The 
hands  were  rapidly  approaching  ten.  Captain 
Montgomery  was  abroad ;  and  he  had  been  so, — 
according  to  custom, — or  in  bed  the  whole  day. 
The  mother  and  daughter  had  had  the  Sabbath  to 
themselves;  and  m»st  quietly  and  sweetly  it  had 
passed.  They  had  read  together,  prayed  together, 
talked  together,  a  great  ^eal ;  and  the  evening  had 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  8 I 

been  spent  in  singing  hymns ;  but  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery's strength  failed  here,  and  Ellen  sang  alone. 
She  was  not  soon  weary.  Hymn  succeeded  hymn, 
with  fresh  and  varied  pleasure ;  and  her  mother 
could  not  tire  of  listening.  The  sweet  words,  and 
the  sweet  airs, — which  were  all  old  friends,  and 
brought  of  themselves  many  a  lesson  of  wisdom  and 
consolation,  by  the  mere  force  of  association, — 
needed  not  the  recommendation  of  the  clear  childish 
voice  in  which  they  were  sung,  which  was  of  all 
things  the  sweetest  to  Mrs.  Montgomery's  ear.  She 
listened, — till  she  almost  felt  as  if  earth  were  left 
behind,  and  she  and  her  child  already  standing 
within  the  walls  of  that  city  where  sorrow  and  sigh- 
ing shall  be  no  more,  and  the  tears  shall  be  wiped 
from  all  eyes  forever.  Ellen's  next  hymn,  however, 
brought  her  back  to  earth  again,  but  though  her 
tears  flowed  freely  while  she  heard  it,  all  her  causes 
of  sorrow  could  not  render  them  bitter. 

God  in  Israel  sows  the  seeds 

Of  affliction,  pain,  and  toil ; 
These_  spring  up  and  choke  the  weeds 

Which  would  else  o'erspread  the  soil. 
Trials  make  the  promise  sweet, — ■ 

Trials  give  new  life  to  prayer,— 
Trials  bring  me  to  His  feet, 

Lay  me  low,  and  keep  me  there. 

"  It  is  so  indeed,  dear  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery when  she  had  finished,  and  folding  the 
little  singer  to  her  breast, — "  I  have  always  found 
it  so.  God  is  faithful.  I  have  seen  abundant 
cause  to  thank  Him  for  all  the  evils  He  has  made 
me  suffer  heretofore,  and  I  do  not  doubt  it  will  be 
the  same  with  this  last  and  worst  one.  Let  us 
glorify  Him  in  the  fires,  my  daughter ;  and  if 
earthly  joys  be  stripped  from  us,  and  if  we  be  torn 
6 


&2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

from  each  other,  let  us  cling  the  closer  to  Him,^» 
He  can  and  He  will  in  that  case  make  up  to  us 
more  than  all  we  have  lost." 

Ellen  felt  her  utter  inability  to  join  in  her  mother's 
expressions  of  confidence  and  hope ;  to  her  there 
was  no  brightness  on  the  cloud  that  hung  over 
them, — it  was  all  dark.  She  could  only  press  her 
lips  in  tearful  silence  to  the  one  and  the  other  of  her 
mother's  cheeks  alternately.  How  sweet  the  sense 
of  the  coming  parting  made  every  such  embrace  J 
This  one,  for  particular  reasons,  was  often  and 
long  remembered.  A  few  minutes  they  remained 
thus  in  each  other's  arms,  cheek  pressed  against 
cheek,  without  speaking ;  but  then  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery remembered  that  Ellen's  bed-time  was 
already  passed,  and  dismissed  her. 

For  a  while  after  Mrs.  Montgomery  remained 
just  where  Ellen  had  left  her,  her  busy  thoughts 
roaming  over  many  things  in  the  far  past,  and  the 
sad  present,  and  the  uncertain  future.  She  was 
unconscious  of  the  passage  of  time,  and  did  not 
notice  how  the  silence  deepened  as  the  night  drew 
on,  till  scarce  a  footfall  was  heard  in  the  street,  and 
the  ticking  of  the  clock  sounded  with  that  sad  dis- 
tinctness which  seems  to  say, — "  Time  is  going  on 
— time  is  going  on, — and  you  are  going  with  it, — ■ 
do  what  you  will  you  can't  help  that."  It  was  just 
upon  the  stroke  of  ten,  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  was 
still  wrapped  in  her  deep  musings,  when  a  sharp, 
brisk  footstep  in  the  distance  aroused  her,  rapidly 
approaching ; — and  she  knew  very  well  whose  it 
was,  and  that  it  would  pause  at  the  door,  before 
she  heard  the  quick  run  up  the  steps,  succeeded 
by  her  husband's  tread  upon  the  staircase.     And 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  8$ 

yet  she  saw  him  open  the  door  with  a  kind  of 
startled  feeling  which  his  appearance  now  invariably 
caused  her ;  the  thought  always  darted  through 
her  head,  "  Perhaps  he  brings  news  of  Ellen's  go- 
ing." Something,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  say  what,  in  his  appearance  or  manner,  confirmed 
this  fear  on  the  present  occasion.  Her  heart  felt 
sick,  and  she  waited  in  silence  to  hear  what  he 
would  say.  He  seemed  very  well  pleased ;  sat 
down  before  the  fire,  rubbing  his  hands,  partly  with 
cold  and  partly  with  satisfaction ;  and  his  first 
words  were,  "Well!  we  have  got  a  fine  opportunity 
for  her  at  last." 

How  little  he  was  capable  of  understanding  the 
pang  this  announcement  gave  his  poor  wife  !  But 
she  only  closed  her  eyes  and  kept  perfectly  quiet, 
and  he  never  suspected  it. 

He  unbuttoned  his  coat,  and  taking  the  poker  in 
his  hand  began  to  mend  the  fire,  talking  the  while. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,  indeed,"  said  he, — "  it's 
quite  a  load  off  my  mind.  Now  we'll  be  gone 
directly,  and  high  time  it  is — I'll  take  passage  in 
the  '  England  '  the  first  thing  to-morrow.  And  this 
is  the  best  possible  chance  for  Ellen — everything 
we  could  have  desired.  I  began  to  feel  very  uneasy 
about  it, — it  was  getting  so  late, — but  I  am  quite 
relieved  now." 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Montgomery,  forcing 
herself  to  speak. 

"  Why,  it's  Mrs.  Dunscombe,"  said  the  Captain, 
flourishing  his  poker  by  way  of  illustration, — you 
know  her,  don't  you  ? — Captain  Dunscombe's  wife 
— she's  going  right  through  Thirlwall,  and  will  take 
charge  of  Ellen  as  far  as  that,  and  there  my  sister 


84  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

will  meet  her  with  a  wagon  and  take  her  straight 
home.  Couldn't  be  anything  better.  I  wrote  to 
let  Fortune  know  when  to  expect  her.  Mrs.  Duns- 
combe  is  a  lady  of  the  first  family  and  fashion — in 
the  highest  degree  respectable ;  she  is  going  on  to 
Fort  Jameson,  with  her  daughter  and  a  servant, 
and  her  husband  is  to  follow  her  in  a  few  days.  I 
happened  to  hear  of  it  to-day,  and  I  immediately 
seized  the  opportunity  to  ask  if  she  would  not 
take  Ellen  with  her  as  far  as  Thirlwall,  and 
Dunscombe  was  only  too  glad  to  oblige  me.  I'm  a 
very  good  friend  of  his,  and  he  knows  it." 

"  How  soon  does  she  go  ?" 

"  Why — that's  the  only  part  of  the  business  I'm 
afraid  you  won't  like, — but  there  is  no  help  for  it ; 
— and  after  all  it  is  a  great  deal  better  so  than 
if  you  had  time  to  wear  yourselves  out  with  mourn- 
ing— better  and  easier  too,  in  the  end." 

"  How  soon  ? "  repeated  Mrs.  Montgomery,  with 
an  agonized  accent. 

"  Why,  I'm  a  little  afraid  of  startling  you — 
Dunscombe's  wife  must  go,  he  told  me,  to-morrow 
morning ;  and  we  arranged  that  she  should  call  in 
the  carriage  at  six  o'clock  to  take  up  Ellen." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  put  her  hands  to  her  face  and 
sank  back  against  the  sofa. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  take  it  so,'  said  her 
husband, — "  but  I  don't  think  it  is  worth  while.  It 
is  a  great  deal  better  as  it  is, — a  great  deal  better 
than  if  she  had  a  long  warning.  You  would  fairly 
wear  yourself  out  if  you  had  time  enough  ;  and  you 
haven't  any  strength  to  spare." 

It  was  some  while  before  Mrs.  Montgomery 
could  recover  composure  and  firmness  enough  to 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  85 

go  on  with  what  she  had  to  do,  though  knowing 
the  necessity,  she  strove  hard  for  it.  For  several 
minutes  she  remained  quite  silent  and  quiet,  en- 
deavoring to  collect  her  scattered  forces ;  then, 
sitting  upright  and  drawing  her  shawl  around  her, 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  must  waken  Ellen  immediately  1 " 

"  Waken  Ellen  !  "  exclaimed  her  husband  in  his 
turn, — "  what  on  earth  for  ?  That's  the  very  last 
thing  to  be  done." 

"  Why,  you  would  not  put  off  telling  her  until 
to-morrow  morning  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  Certainly  I  would — that's  the  only  proper  way 
to  do.  Why  in  the  world  should  you  wake  her  up, 
just  to  spend  the  whole  night  in  useless  grieving  ? 
unfitting  her  utterly  for  her  journey,  and  doing 
yourself  more  harm  than  you  can  undo  in  a  week. 
No,  no, — just  let  her  sleep  quietly,  and  you  go  to 
bed  and  do  the  same.  Wake  her  up,  indeed !  I 
thought  you  were  wiser." 

"  But  she  will  be  so  dreadfully  shocked  in  the 
morning  !  " 

"  Not  one  bit  more  than  she  would  be  to-night, 
and  she  won't  have  so  much  time  to  feel  it.  In 
the  hurry  and  bustle  of  getting  off  she  will  not  have 
time  to  think  about  her  feelings  ;  and  once  on  the 
way  she  will  do  well  enough; — children  always 
do." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  looked  undecided  and  un- 
satisfied. 

"  I'll  take  the  responsibility  of  this  matter  on 
myself, — you  must  not  waken  her,  absolutely.  It 
would  not  do  at  all,"  said  the  Captain,  poking  the 
fire  very  energetically, — "  it  would  not  do  at  all, — - 
I  cannot  allow  it." 


B6  The  wide,  wide  world. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  silently  rose  and  lit  a  lamp. 

"  You  are  not  going  into  Ellen's  room  ?  "  said 
the  husband. 

"  I  must — I  must  put  her  things  together." 

"  But  you'll  not  disturb  Ellen  ?  "  said  he,  in  a 
tone  that  required  a  promise. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it." 

Twice  Mrs.  Montgomery  stopped  before  she 
reached  the  door  of  Ellen's  room,  for  her  heart 
failed  her.  But  she  must  go  on,  and  the  necessary 
preparations  for  the  morrow  must  be  made  ; — she 
knew  it ;  and  repeating  this  to  herself,  she  gently 
turned  the  handle  of  the  door  and  pushed  it  open, 
and  guarding  the  light  with  her  hand  from  Ellen's 
eyes,  she  set  it  where  it  would  not  shine  upon  her. 
Having  done  this,  she  set  herself,  without  once 
glancing  at  her  little  daughter,  to  put  all  things  in 
order  for  her  early  departure  on  the  following 
morning.  But  it  was  a  bitter  piece  of  work  for  her. 
She  first  laid  out  all  that  Ellen  would  need  to  wear, 
— the  dark  merino,  the  new  nankeen  coat,  the 
white  bonnet,  the  clean  frill  that  her  own  hands 
had  done  up,  the  little  gloves  and  shoes,  and  all 
the  etceteras,  with  the  thoughtfulness  and  the 
carefulness  of  love ;  but  it  went  through  and 
through  her  heart  that  it  was  the  very  last  time 
a  mother's  fingers  would  ever  be  busy  in  arranging 
or  preparing  Ellen's  attire ; — the  very  last  time  she 
would  ever  see  or  touch  even  the  little  inanimate 
things  that  belonged  to  her;  and  painful  as  the 
task  was,  she  was  loth  to  have  it  come  to  an  end. 
It  was  with  a  kind  of  lingering  unwillingness  to 
quit  her  hold  of  them  that  one  thing  after  another 
was  stowed  carefully  and  neatly  away  in  the  trunk. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORl^D.  8j 

She  felt  it  was  love's  last  act ;  words  might  indeed 
a  few  times  yet  come  over  the  ocean  on  a  sheet  of 
paper ; — but  sight,  and  hearing,  and  touch  must  all 
have  done  henceforth  forever.  Keenly  as  Mrs- 
Montgomery  felt  this,  she  went  on  busily  with  her 
work  all  the  while;  and  when  the  last  thing  was 
safely  packed,  shut  the  trunk  and  locked  it  without 
allowing  herself  to  stop  and  think,  and  even  drew 
the  straps.  And  then,  having  finished  all  her  task, 
she  went  to  the  bedside  ;  she  had  not  looked  that 
way  before. 

Ellen  was  lying  in  the  deep  sweet  sleep  of  child- 
hood ;  the  easy  position,  the  gentle  breathing,  and 
the  flush  of  health  upon  the  cheek  showed  that  all 
causes  of  sorrow  were  for  the  present  far  removed. 
Yet  not  so  far  either  ; — for  once  when  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery stooped  to  kiss  her,  light  as  the  touch  of 
that  kiss  had  been  upon  her  lips,  it  seemed  to 
awaken  a  train  of  sorrowful  recollections  in  the 
little  sleeper's  mind.  A  shade  passed  over  her 
face,  and  with  a  gentle,  but  sad  accent  the  word 
"  Mamma  !  "  burst  from  the  parted  lips.  Only  a 
moment, — and  the  shade  passed  away,  and  the 
expression  of  peace  settled  again  upon  her  brow ; 
but  Mrs.  Montgomery  dared  not  try  the  experiment 
a  second  time.  Long  she  stood  looking  upon  her, 
as  if  she  knew  she  was  looking  her  last ;  then  she 
knelt  by  the  bedside  and  hid  her  face  in  the  cover- 
ings,— but  no  tears  came;  the  struggle  in  her  mind 
and  her  anxious  fear  of  the  morning's  trial  made 
weeping  impossible.  Her  husband  at  length  came 
to  seek  her,  and  it  was  well  he  did  ;  she  would  have 
remained  there  on  her  knees  all  night.  He  feared 
something   of   the   kind,  and  came  to  prevent  it 


88  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD, 

Mrs.  Montgomery  suffered  herself  to  be  led  away 
without  making  any  opposition,  and  went  to  bed 
as  usual,  but  sleep  was  far  from  her.  The  fear  of 
Ellen's  distress  when  she  should  be  awakened  and 
suddenly  told  the  truth,  kept  her  in  an  agony.  In 
restless  wakefulness  she  tossed  and  turned  uneasily 
upon  her  bed,  watching  for  the  dawn,  and  dreading 
unspeakably  to  see  it.  The  Captain,  in  happy  un- 
consciousness of  his  wife's  distress  and  utter 
inability  to  sympathize  with  it,  was  soon  in  a  sound 
sleep,  and  his  heavy  breathing  was  an  aggravation 
of  her  trouble ;  it  kept  repeating  what  indeed  she 
knew  already,  that  the  only  one  in  the  world  who 
ought  to  have  shared  and  soothed  her  grief  was 
not  capable  of  doing  either.  Wearied  with  watch- 
ing and  tossing  to  and  fro,  she  at  length  lost 
herself  a  moment  in  uneasy  slumber,  from  which 
she  suddenly  started  in  terror,  and  seizing  her  hus- 
band's arm  to  arouse  him,  exclaimed,  "  It  is  time 
to  wake  Ellen  !  "  but  she  had  to  repeat  her  efforts 
two  or  three  times  before  she  succeeded  in  making 
herself  heard. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  he,  heavily,  and  not 
overwell  pleased  at  the  interruption. 

"  It  is  time  to  wake  Ellen." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  said  he,  relapsing, — "  it  isn't  time 
yet  this  great  while." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery, — "  I  am 
sure  it  is  ;  I  see  the  beginning  of  dawn  in  the  east." 

"  Nonsense  !  it's  no  such  thing ;  it's  the  glimmer 
of  the  lamp-light ;  what  is  the  use  of  your  exciting 
yourself  so  for  nothing  ?  It  won't  be  dawn  these 
two  hours.  Wait  till  I  find  my  repeater,  and  I'll 
convince  you." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  89 

He  found  and  struck  it. 

"  There  !  I  told  you  so — only  one  quarter  after 
four ;  it  would  be  absurd  to  wake  her  yet.  Do  go 
to  sleep  and  leave  it  to  me ;  I'll  take  care  it  is  done 
in  proper  time." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  sighed  heavily,  and  again  ar- 
ranged herself  to  watch  the  eastern  horizon,  or 
rather  with  her  face  in  that  direction  ;  for  she  could 
see  nothing.  But  more  quietly  now  she  lay  gazing 
into  the  darkness  which  it  was  in  vain  to  try  to 
penetrate  ;  and  thoughts  succeeding  thoughts  in  a 
more  regular  train,  at  last  fairly  cheated  her  into 
sleep,  much  as  she  wished  to  keep  it  off.  She  slept 
soundly  for  near  an  hour ;  and  when  she  awoke  the 
dawn  had  really  begun  to  break  in  the  eastern  sky. 
She  again  aroused  Captain  Montgomery,  who  this 
time  allowed  it  might  be  as  well  to  get  up  ;  but  it 
was  with  unutterable  impatience  that  she  saw  him 
lighting  a  lamp,  and  moving  about  as  leisurely  as 
if  he  had  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  get  ready  for 
breakfast  at  eight  o'clock. 

"  Oh,  do  speak  to  Ellen  !  "  she  said,  unable  to 
control  herself.  "  Never  mind  brushing  your  hair 
till  afterwards.  She  will  have  no  time  tor  anything. 
Oh,  do  not  wait  any  longer !  what  are  you  thinking 
of?" 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  said  the  Captain  \ 
— "there's  plenty  of  time.  Do  quiet  yourself— 
you're  getting  as  nervous  as  possible.  I'm  going 
immediately." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  fairly  groaned  with  impatience 
and  an  agonizing  dread  of  what  was  to  follow  the 
disclosure  to  Ellen.  But  her  husband  coolly  went 
on  with  his  preparations,  which  indeed  were  not 


go  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

long  in  finishing  ;  and  then  taking  the  lamp,  he  at  last 
went.  He  had  in  truth  delayed  on  purpose,  wish* 
ing  the  final  leave-taking  to  be  as  brief  as  possible  ; 
and  the  gray  streaks  of  light  in  the  east  were  plainly 
showing  themselves  when  he  opened  the  door  of 
his  little  daughter's  room.  He  found  her  lying  very 
much  as  her  mother  had  left  her, — in  the  same  quiet 
sleep,  and  with  the  same  expression  of  calmness 
and  peace  spread  over  her  whole  face  and  person. 
It  touched  even  him, — and  he  was  not  readily 
touched  by  anything  ; — it  made  him  loth  to  say  the 
word  that  would  drive  all  that  sweet  expression  so 
quickly  and  completely  away.  It  must  be  said,  how- 
ever ;  the  increasing  light  warned  him  he  must  not 
tarry  ;  but  it  was  with  a  hesitating  and  almost  falter- 
ing voice  that  he  said,  "  Ellen  !  " 

She  stirred  in  her  sleep,  and  the  shadow  came 
over  her  face  again. 

"  Ellen  !    Ellen  !  " 

She  started  up, — broad  awake  now ; — and  both 
the  shadow  and  the  peaceful  expression  were  gone 
from  her  face.  It  was  a  look  of  blank  astonish- 
ment at  first  with  which  she  regarded  her  father, 
but  very  soon  indeed  that  changed  into  one  of 
t>lank  despair.  He  saw  that  she  understood  per- 
fectly what  he  was  there  for,  and  that  there  was  no 
need  at  all  for  him  to  trouble  himself  with  making 
painful  explanations. 

"  Come,  Ellen,"  he  said, — "  that's  a  good  child, 
make  haste  and  dress.  There's  no  time  to  lose  now 
for  the  carriage  will  soon  be  at  the  door ;  and  your 
mother  wants  to  see  you,  you  know." 

Ellen  hastily  obeyed  him,  and  began  to  put  on 
tier  stockings  and  shoes. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE    WORLD.  q\ 

"  That's  right — now  you'll  be  ready  directly. 
You  are  going  with  Mrs.  Dunscombe — I  have 
engaged  her  to  take  charge  of  you  all  the  way  quite 
to  Thirlwall ;  she's  the  wife  of  Captain  Dunscombe, 
whom  you  saw  here  the  other  day,  you  know ;  and 
her  daughter  is  going  with  her,  so  you  will  have 
charming  company.  I  dare  say  you  will  enjoy  the 
journey  very  much  ;  and  your  aunt  will  meet  you  at 
Thirlwall.  Now,  make  haste — I  expect  the  carriage 
every  minute.  I  meant  to  have  called  you  before, 
but  I  overslept  myself.     Don't  be  long." 

And  nodding  encouragement,  her  father  left  her. 

"  How  did  she  bear  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Montgom- 
ery, when  he  returned. 

"  Like  a  little  hero.  She  didn't  say  a  word,  or 
shed  a  tear.  I  expected  nothing  but  that  she 
would  make  a  great  fuss ;  but  she  has  all  the  old 
spirit  that  you  used  to  have, — and  have  yet,  for 
anything  I  know.     She  behaved  admirably." 

Mrs.  Montgomery  sighed  deeply.  She  under- 
stood far  better  than  her  husband  what  Ellen's  feel- 
ings were,  and  could  interpret  much  more  truly 
than  he  the  signs  of  them  ;  the  conclusions  she 
drew  from  Ellen's  silent  and  tearless  reception  of 
the  news  differed  widely  from  his.  She  now 
waited  anxiously  and  almost  fearfully  for  her  ap- 
pearance, which  did  not  come  as  soon  as  she 
expected  it. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  Ellen  when  her  father  ended 
his  talking,  and  left  her  to  herself ;  for  she  felt  she 
could  not  dress  herself  so  quick  with  him  standing 
there  and  looking  at  her,  and  his  desire  that  she 
should  be  speedy  in  what  she  had  to  do  could  not  be 
greater  than  her  own.     Her  fingers  did  their  work  as 


92  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

fast  as  they  could,  with  every  joint  trembling.  But 
though  a  weight  like  a  mountain  was  upon  the  poor 
child's  heart,  she  could  not  cry  ;  and  she  could  not 
pray, — though  true  to  her  constant  habit  she  fell  on 
her  knees  by  her  bedside  as  she  always  did  :  it  was  in 
vain  ;  all  was  in  a  whirl  in  her  heart  and  head,  and 
after  a  minute  she  rose  again,  clasping  her  little 
hands  together  with  an  expression  of  sorrow  that  it 
was  well  her  mother  could  not  see.  She  was 
dressed  very  soon,  but  she  shrank  from  going  to  her 
mother's  room  while  her  father  was  there.  To  save 
time  she  put  on  her  coat,  and  everything  but  her 
bonnet  and  gloves  ;  and  then  stood  leaning  against 
the  bedpost,  for  she  could  not  sit  down,  watching 
with  most  intense  anxiety  to  hear  her  father's  step 
come  out  of  the  room  and  go  downstairs.  Every 
minute  seemed  too  long  to  be  borne  ;  poor  Ellen 
began  to  feel  as  if  she  could  not  contain  herself. 
Yet  five  had  not  passed  away  when  she  heard  the 
roll  of  carriage  wheels  which  came  to  the  door  and 
then  stopped,  and  immediately  her  father  opening 
the  door  to  come  out.  Without  waiting  any  longer 
Ellen  opened  her  own,  and  brushed  past  him  into 
the  room  he  had  quitted.  Mrs.  Montgomery  was 
still  lying  on  the  bed,  for  her  husband  had  insisted 
on  her  not  rising.  She  said  not  a  word,  but  opened 
her  arms  to  receive  her  little  daughter ;  and  with  a 
cry  of  indescribable  expression  Ellen  sprang  upon 
the  bed,  and  was  folded  in  them.  But  then  neither 
of  them  spoke  or  wept.  What  could  words  say  ? 
Heart  met  heart  in  that  agony,  for  each  knew  all 
that  was  in  the  other.  No, — not  quite  all.  Ellen 
did  not  know  that  the  whole  of  bitterness  death  had 
for  her  mother  she  was  tasting  then.     But   it  was 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  93 

true.  Death  had  no  more  power  to  give  her  pain 
after  this  parting  should  be  over.  His  after-work, 
— the  parting  between  soul  and  body, — would  be 
welcome  rather  ;  yes,  very  welcome.  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery knew  it  all  well.  She  knew  this  was  the  last 
embrace  between  them.  She  knew  it  was  the  very 
last  time  that  dear  little  form  would  ever  lie  on  her 
bosom,  or  be  pressed  in  her,  arms  ;  and  it  almost 
seemed  to  her  that  soul  and  body  must  part  com- 
pany too  when  they  should  be  rent  asunder. 
Ellen' s  grief  was  not  like  this  ; — she  did  not  think  it 
was  the  last  time  ; — but  she  was  a  child  of  very 
high  spirit  and  violent  passions,  untamed  at  all  by 
sorrow's  discipline ;  and  in  proportion  violent  was 
the  tempest  excited  by  this  first  real  trial.  Perhaps, 
too,  her  sorrow  was  sharpened  by  a  sense  of  wrong 
and  a  feeling  of  indignation  at  her  father's  cruelty 
in  not  waking  her  earlier. 

Not  many  minutes  had  passed  in  this  sad  em- 
brace, and  no  word  had  yet  been  spoken,  no  sound 
uttered  except  Ellen's  first  inarticulate  cry  of 
mixed  affection  and  despair,  when  Captain  Mont- 
gomery's step  was  again  heard  slowly  ascending  the 
stairs.  "  He  is  coming  to  take  me  away  !  "  thought 
Ellen  ;  and  in  terror  lest  she  should  go  without 
a  word  from  her  mother,  she  burst  forth  with, 
"  Mamma  !  speak  !  " 

A  moment  before,  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  could 
not  have  spoken.  But  she  could  now  ;  and  as 
clearly  and  calmly  the  words  were  uttered  as  if 
nothing  had  been  the  matter,  only  her  voice  fell  a 
little  towards  the  last. 

"  God  bless  my  darling  child  !  and  make  hei 
His  own, — and  bring  her  to  that  home  where  part- 
ing cannot  be." 


94  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Ellen's  eyes  had  been  dry  until  now ;  but  when 
she  heard  the  sweet  sound  of  her  mother's  voice,  it 
opened  ail  the  fountains  of  tenderness  within  her. 
She  burst  into  uncontrollable  weeping ;  it  seemed 
as  if  she  would  pour  out  her  very  heart  in  tears ; 
and  she  clung  to  her  mother  with  a  force  that  made 
it  a  difficult  task  for  her  father  to  remove  her.  He 
could  not  do  it  at  first ;  and  Ellen  seemed  not  to 
hear  anything  that  was  said  to  her.  He  was  very 
unwilling  to  use  harshness ;  and  after  a  little, 
though  she  had  paid  no  attention  to  his  entreaties 
or  commands,  yet  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  she  gradually  relaxed  her  hold  and  suffered 
him  to  draw  her  away  from  her  mother's  arms.  He 
carried  her  downstairs,  and  put  her  on  the  front 
seat  of  the  carriage,  beside  Mrs.  Dunscombe's 
maid, — but  Ellen  could  never  recollect  how  she 
got  there,  and  she  did  not  feel  the  touch  of  her 
father's  hand,  nor  hear  him  when  he  bid  her  good- 
bye ;  and  she  did  not  know  that  he  put  a  large 
paper  of  candies  and  sugar-plums  in  her  lap.  She 
knew  nothing  but  that  she  had  lost  her  mother. 

"  It  will  not  be  so  long,"  said  the  Captain,  in 
a  kind  of  apologizing  way ;  "  she  will  soon  get 
over  it,  and  you  will  not  have  any  trouble  with 
her." 

"I  hope  so,"  returned  the  lady,  rather  shortly  ; 
and  then,  as  the  Captain  was  making  his  parting 
bow,  she  added,  in  no  very  pleased  tone  of  voice, 
"  Pray,  Captain  Montgomery,  is  this  young  lady  to 
travel  without  a  bonnet  ?  " 

"  Bless  me  !  no,"  said  the  Captain.  "  How  is 
this?  hasn't  she  a  bonnet?  I  beg  a  thousand 
pardons,  ma'am, — I'll  bring  it  on  the  instant." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  95 

After  a  little  delay,  the  bonnet  was  found,  but 
the  Captain  overlooked  the  gloves  in  hb  hurry. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  have  been  delayed, 
ma'am,"  said  he. 

"  I  hope  we  may  be  able  to  reach  the  boat  yet," 
replied  the  lady.     "  Drive  on  as  fast  as  you  can." 

A  very  polite  bow  from  Captain  Montgomery — 
a  very  slight  one  from  the  lady — and  off  they 
drove. 

"  Proud  enough,"  thought  the  Captain,  as  he 
went  up  the  stairs  again.  "I  reckon  she  don't 
thank  me  for  her  traveling  companion.  But  Ellen's 
off — that's  one  good  thing  : — and  now  I'll  go  and 
engage  berths  in  the  '  England.'  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  So  fair  and  foul  a  day  I  have  not  seen." 

Macbeth. 

The  long  drive  to  the  boat  was  only  a  sorrowful 
blank  to  Ellen's  recollection.  She  did  not  see  the 
frowns  that  passed  between  her  companions  on  her 
account.  She  did  not  know  that  her  white  bonnet 
was  such  a  matter  of  merriment  to  Margaret  Duns- 
combe  and  the  maid  that  they  could  hardly  contain 
themselves.  She  did  not  find  out  that  Miss  Mar- 
garet's fingers  were  busy  with  her  paper  of  sweets, 
which  only  a  good  string  and  a  sound  knot  kept 
her  from  rifling.  Yet  she  felt  very  well  that  nobody 
there  cared  in  the  least  for  her  sorrow.  It  mattered 
nothing  ;  she  wept  on  in  her  loneliness,  and 
knew   nothing    that    happened   till    the    carriage 


96  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

stopped  on  the  wharf ;  even  then  she  did  not  raise 
her  head.  Mrs.  Dunscombe  got  out,  and  saw  her 
daughter  and  servant  do  the  same ;  then,  after 
giving  some  orders  about  the  baggage,  she  returned 
to  Ellen. 

"  Will  you  get  out,  Miss  Montgomery  ?  or  would 
you  prefer  to  remain  in  the  carriage  ?  We  must  go 
on  board  directly." 

There  was  something,  not  in  the  words,  but  in 
the  tone,  that  struck  Ellen's  heart  with  an  en- 
tirely new  feeling.  Her  tears  stopped  instantly, 
and,  wiping  away  quickly  the  traces  of  them  as 
well  as  she  could,  she  got  out  of  the  carriage  with- 
out a  word,  aided  by  Mrs.  Dunscombe's  hand.  The 
party  were  presently  joined  by  a  fine-looking  man, 
whom  Ellen  recognized  as  Captain  Dunscombe. 

"  Dunscombe,  do  put  these  girls  on  board,  will 
you,  and  then  come  back  to  me ;  I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  Timmins,  you  may  go  along  and  look 
after  them." 

Captain  Dunscombe  obeyed.  When  they  reached 
the  deck,  Margaret  Dunscombe  and  the  maid 
Timmins  went  straight  to  the  cabin.  Not  feeling 
at  all  drawn  towards  their  company,  as  indeed  they 
had  given  her  no  reason,  Ellen  planted  herself 
by  the  guards  of  the  boat,  not  far  from  the  gang- 
way, to  watch  the  busy  scene  that  at  another  time 
would  have  had  a  great  deal  of  interest  and  amuse- 
ment for  her.  And  interest  it  had  now  ;  but  it  was 
with  a  very,  very  grave  little  face  that  she  looked 
on  the  bustling  crowd.  The  weight  on  her  heart 
was  just  as  great  as  ever,  but  she  felt  this  was  not 
the  time  or  the  place  to  let  it  be  seen  ;  so  for  the 
present  she  occupied  herself  with  what  was  passing 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  97 

before  her,  though  it  did  not  for  one  moment  make 
her  forget  her  sorrow. 

At  last  the  boat  rang  her  last  belL  Captain 
Dunscombe  put  his  wife  on  board,  and  had  barely 
time  to  jump  off  the  boat  again  when  the  plank 
was  withdrawn.  The  men  on  shore  cast  off  the 
great  loops  of  ropes  that  held  the  boat  to  enormous 
wooden  posts  on  the  wharf,  and  they  were  off ! 

At  first  it  seemed  to  Ellen  as  if  the  wharf  and 
the  people  upon  it  were  sailing  away  from  them 
backwards;  but  she  presently  forgot  to  think  of 
them  at  all.  She  was  gone  ! — she  felt  the  bitterness 
of  the  whole  truth  ; — the  blue  water  already  lay 
between  her  and  the  shore,  where  she  so  much 
longed  to  be.  In  that  confused  mass  of  buildings 
at  which  she  was  gazing,  but  which  would  be  so 
soon  beyond  even  gazing  distance,  was  the  only 
spot  she  cared  for  in  the  world  ;  her  heart  was 
there.  She  could  not  see  the  place,  to  be  sure,  nor 
tell  exactly  whereabouts  it  lay  in  all  that  wide-spread 
city  ;  but  it  was  there,  somewhere, — and  every 
minute  was  making  it  farther  and  farther  off.  It's 
a  bitter  thing,  that  sailing  away  from  all  one  loves ; 
and  poor  Ellen  felt  it  so.  She  stood  leaning  both 
her  arms  upon  the  rail,  the  tears  running  down  her 
cheeks,  and  blinding  her  so  that  she  could  not  see 
the  place  toward  which  her  straining  eyes  were  bent. 
Somebody  touched  her  sleeve, — it  was  Timmins. 

"  Mrs.  Dunscombe  sent  me  to  tell  you  she  wants 
you  to  come  into  the  cabin,  miss." 

Hastily  wiping  her  eyes,  Ellen  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons, and  followed  Timmins  into  the  cabin.  It 
was  full  of  groups  of  ladies,  children,  and  nurses, 
— bustling  and   noisy    enough.     Ellen  wished  she 


98  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

might  have  stayed  outside  ;  she  wanted  to  be  by 
herself ;  but  as  the  next  best  thing,  she  mounted 
upon  the  bench  which  ran  all  round  the  saloon, 
and  kneeling  on  the  cushion  by  one  of  the  windows, 
placed  herself  with  the  edge  of  her  bonnet  just 
touching  the  glass,  so  that  nobody  could  see  a  bit 
of  her  face,  while  she  could  look  out  near  by  as 
well  as  from  the  deck.  Presently  her  ear  caught, 
as  she  thought,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Dunscombe,  say- 
ing in  rather  an  undertone,  but  laughing  too,  "  What 
a  figure  she  does  cut  in  that  outlandish  bonnet !  " 

Ellen  had  no  particular  reason  to  think  she  was 
meant,  and  yet  she  did  think  so.  She  remained 
quite  still,  but  with  raised  color  and  quickened 
breathing  waited  to  hear  what  would  come  next. 
Nothing  came  at  first,  and  she  was  beginning  to 
think  she  had  perhaps  been  mistaken,  when  she 
plainly  heard  Margaret  Dunscombe  say,  in  a  loud 
whisper,  "Mamma,  I  wish  you  could  contrive  some 
way  to  keep  her  in  the  cabin, — can't  you  ?  she  looks 
so  odd  in  that  queer  sunbonnet  kind  of  a  thing, 
that  anybody  would  think  she  had  come  out  of  the 
woods, — and  no  gloves,  too ;  I  shouldn't  like  to 
have  the  Miss  M'Arthurs  think  she  belonged  to  us  ; 
can't  you,  mamma  ?  " 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  Ellen's  feet,  the 
shock  would  hardly  have  been  greater.  The  light- 
ning of  passion  shot  through  every  vein.  And  it  was 
not  passion  only ;  there  was  hurt  feeling  and 
wounded  pride,  and  the  sorrow  of  which  her  heart 
was  full  enough  before,  now  awakened  afresh. 
The  child  was  beside  herself.  One  wild  wish  for  a 
hiding-place  was  the  most  pressing  thought, — to  be 
wher^  tears  could  burst  and  her  haart  could  break 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  99 

unseen.  She  slid  off  her  bench  and  rushed  through 
the  crowd  to  the  red  curtain  that  cut  off  the  far  end 
of  the  saloon  ;  and  from  there  down  to  the  cabin 
below, — people  were  everywhere.  At  last  she  spied 
a  nook  where  she  could  be  completely  hidden.  It 
was  in  the  far-back  end  of  the  boat,  just  under  the 
stairs  by  which  she  had  come  down.  Nobody  was 
sitting  on  the  three  or  four  large  mahogany  steps 
that  ran  round  that  end  of  the  cabin  and  sloped  up 
to  the  little  cabin  window ;  and  creeping  beneath 
the  stairs,  and  seating  herself  on  the  lowest  of  these 
steps,  the  poor  child  found  that  she  was  quite 
screened  and  out  of  sight  of  every  human  creature. 
It  was  time  indeed;  her  heart  had  been  almost 
bursting  with  passion  and  pain,  and  now  the  pent- 
up  tempest  broke  forth  with  a  fury  that  racked  her 
little  frame  from  head  to  foot ;  and  the  more  because 
she  strove  to  stifle  every  sound  of  it  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. It  was  the  very  bitterest  of  sorrow,  without 
any  softening  thought  to  allay  it,  and  sharpened 
and  made  more  bitter  by  mortification  and  a  pas- 
sionate sense  of  unkindness  and  wrong.  And 
through  it  all,  how  constantly  in  her  heart  the  poor 
child  was  reaching  forth  longing  arms  towards  her 
far-off  mother  and  calling  in  secret  on  her  beloved 
name.  "  Oh,  mamma  !  mamma  !  "  was  repeated 
numberless  times,  with  the  unspeakable  bitterness 
of  knowing  that  she  would  have  been  a  sure  refuge 
and  protection  from  all  this  trouble,  but  was  now 
where  she  could  neither  reach  nor  hear  her.  Alas  ! 
how  soon  and  how  sadly  missed. 

Ellen's  distress  was  not  soon  quieted,  or  if  quieted 
for  a  moment,  it  was  only  to  break  out  afresh. 
And  then  she  was  glad  to  sit  still  and  rest  herself. 


ioo  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

Presently  she  heard  the  voice  of  the  chambermaid 
upstairs,  at  a  distance  at  first,  and  coming  nearer 
and  nearer.  "  Breakfast  ready,  ladies — Ladies, 
breakfast  ready  !  " — and  then  came  all  the  people 
in  a  rush,  pouring  down  the  stairs  over  Ellen's  head. 
She  kept  quite  still  and  close,  for  she  did  not  want 
to  see  anybody,  and  could  not  bear  that  anybody 
should  see  her.  Nobody  did  see  her ;  they  all 
went  off  into  the  next  cabin,  where  breakfast  was 
set.  Ellen  began  to  grow  tired  of  her  hiding-place 
and  to  feel  restless  in  her  confinement ;  she  thought 
this  would  be  a  good  time  to  get  away ;  so  she  crept 
from  her  station  under  the  stairs  and  mounted 
them  as  quickly  and  as  quietly  as  she  could.  She 
found  almost  nobody  left  in  the  saloon, — and  breath- 
ing more  freely,  she  possessed  herself  of  her  de- 
spised bonnet,  which  she  had  torn  off  her  head  in 
the  first  burst  of  her  indignation,  and  passing  gently 
out  at  the  door,  went  up  the  stairs  which  led  to  the 
promenade  deck ; — she  felt  as  if  she  could  not  get 
far  enough  from  Mrs.  Dunscombe. 

The  promenade  deck  was  very  pleasant  in  the 
bright  morning  sun  ;  and  nobody  was  there  except 
a  few  gentlemen.  Ellen  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
settees  that  were  ranged  along  the  middle  of  it,  and, 
much  pleased  at  having  found  herself  such  a  nice 
place  of  retreat,  she  once  more  took  up  her  inter- 
rupted amusement  of  watching  the  banks  of  the 
river. 

It  was  a  fair,  mild  day,  near  the  end  of  October, 
and  one  of  the  loveliest  of  that  lovely  month.  Poor 
Ellen,  however,  could  not  fairly  enjoy  it  just  now. 
There  was  enough  darkness  in  her  heart  to  put  a 
veil  over  all  nature's  brightness.  .  The  thought  did 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  ioi 

pass  through  her  mind  when  she  first  went 
up,  how  very  fair  everything  was  ; — but  she  soon 
forgot  to  think  about  it  at  all.  They  were  now  in 
a  wide  part  of  the  river  ;  and  the  shore  towards 
which  she  was  looking  was  low  and  distant,  and 
offered  nothing  to  interest  her.  She  ceased  to  look 
at  it,  and  presently  lost  all  sense  of  everything 
around  and  before  her,  for  her  thoughts  went  home. 
She  remembered  that  sweet  moment  last  night  when 
she  lay  in  her  mother's  arms,  after  she  had  stopped 
singing.  Could  it  be  only  last  night  ? — it  seemed  a 
long,  long  time  ago.  She  went  over  again  in  imagi- 
nation her  shocked  waking  up  that  very  morning, 
— how  cruel  that  was  ! — her  hurried  dressing, — the 
miserable  parting, — and  those  last  words  of  her 
mother,  that  seemed  to  ring  in  her  ears  yet.  "  That 
home  where  parting  cannot  be."  "  Oh,"  thought 
Ellen,  "  how  shall  I  ever  get  there  ?  who  is  there 
to  teach  me  now  ?  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  without 
you  ?  Oh,  mamma !  how  much  I  want  you 
already  !  " 

While  poor  Ellen  was  thinking  these  things  over 
and  over,  her  little  face  had  a  deep  sadness  of 
expression  it  was  sorrowful  to  see.  She  was  per- 
fectly calm  ;  her  violent  excitement  had  all  left  her  ; 
her  lip  quivered  a  very  little  sometimes,  but  that 
was  all ;  and  one  or  two  tears  rolled  slowly  down  the 
side  of  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
dancing  water,  but  it  was  very  plain  her  thoughts 
were  not,  nor  on  anything  else  before  her;  and 
there  was  a  forlorn  look  of  hopeless  sorrow  on  her 
lip  and  cheek  and  brow,  enough  to  move  anybody 
whose  heart  was  not  very  hard.  She  was  noticed, 
and  with  a  feeling  of  compassion,  by  several  peo 


102  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

pie ;  but  they  all  thought  it  was  none  of  their  busi- 
ness to  speak  to  her,  or  they  didn't  know  how.  At 
length,  a  gentleman,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
walking  up  and  down  the  deck,  happened  to  look,  as 
he  passed,  at  her  little  pale  face.  He  went  to  the 
end  of  his  walk  that  time,  but  in  coming  back  he 
stopped  just  in  front  of  her,  and  bending  down  his 
face  towards  hers,  said,  "  What  is  the  matter  with 
you,  my  little  friend  ? " 

Though  his  figure  had  passed  before  her  a  great 
many  times  Ellen  had  not  seen  him  at  all ;  for 
"  her  eyes  were  with  her  heart,  and  that  was  far 
away."  Her  cheeks  flushed  with  surprise  as  she 
looked  up.  But  there  was  no  mistaking  the  look  of 
kindness  in  the  eyes  that  met  hers,  nor  the  gentle- 
ness and  grave  truthfulness  of  the  whole  counte- 
nance. It  won  her  confidence  immediately.  All  the 
floodgates  of  Ellen's  heart  were  at  once  opened. 
She  could  not  speak,  but  rising  and  clasping  the 
hand  that  was  held  out  to  her  in  both  her  own,  she 
bent  down  her  head  upon  it,  and  burst  into  one  of 
those  uncontrollable  agonies  of  weeping,  such  as 
the  news  of  her  mother's  intended  departure  had 
occasioned  that  first  sorrowful  evening.  He  gently, 
and  as  soon  as  he  could,  drew  her  to  a  retired  part 
of  the  deck  where  they  were  comparatively  free 
from  other  people's  eyes  and  ears  ;  then  taking  her 
in  his  arms,  he  endeavored  by  many  kind  and 
soothing  words  to  stay  the  torrent  of  her  grief. 
This  fit  of  weeping  did  Ellen  more  good  than  the 
former  one  ;  that  only  exhausted,  this  in  some  little 
measure  relieved  her. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ?  "  said  her  friend,  kindly. 
"  Nay,  never  mind  shedding  any  more  tears  about 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  103 

it,  my  child.  Let  me  hear  what  it  is  ;  and  perhaps 
we  can  find  some  help  for  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  can't,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  sadly. 

"  Well,  let  us  see,"  said  he, — "  perhaps  I  can. 
What  is  it  that  has  troubled  you  so  much  ? " 

"  I  have  lost  my  mother,  sir,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Your  mother  !     Lost  her ! — how  ?  " 

"  She  is  very  ill,  sir,  and  obliged  to  go  away  over 
the  sea  to  France  to  get  well ;  and  papa  could  not 
take  me  with  her,"  said  poor  Ellen,  weeping  again, 
"  and  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  be  among  strangers. 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Have  you  left  your  mother  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !     I  left  her  this  morning." 

"  What  is  your  name  ? " 

"  Ellen  Montgomery." 

"  Is  your  mother  obliged  to  go  to  Europe  for  her 
health?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  nothing  else  would  have  made 
her  go,  but  the  doctor  said  she  would  not  live  long 
if  she  didn't  go,  and  that  would  cure  her." 

"  Then  you  hope  to  see  her  come  back  by  and 
by,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  ;  but  it  won't  be  this  great,  great, 
long  while  ;  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  was  forever." 

"  Ellen,  do  you  know  who  it  is  that  sends  sick- 
ness and  trouble  upon  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know ;  but  I  don't  feel  that  that 
makes  it  any  easier." 

"  Do  you  know  why  He  sends  it  ?  He  is  the 
God  of  love, — He  does  not  trouble  us  willingly, — 
He  has  said  so  ; — why  does  He  ever  make  us  suffer  ? 
do  you  know  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 


104  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Sometimes  He  sees  that  if  He  lets  them  alone, 
His  children  will  love  some  dear  thing  on  the  earth 
better  than  Himself,  and  He  knows  they  will  not 
be  happy  if  they  do  so  ;  and  then  because  He  loves 
them,  He  takes  it  away, — perhaps  it  is  a  dear 
mother,  or  a  dear  daughter, — or  else  He  hinders 
their  enjoyment  of  it;  that  they  may  remember 
Him,  and  give  their  whole  hearts  to  Him.  He 
wants  their  whole  hearts,  that  He  may  bless 
them.     Are  you  one  of  his  His  children,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  with  swimming  eyes,  but 
cast  down  to  the  ground. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  you  are  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  love  the  Saviour." 

"  Do  you  not  love  Him,  Ellen  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  sir." 

"  Why  are  you  afraid  not  ?  what  makes  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  Mamma  said  I  could  not  love  Him  at  all  if  I 
;id  not  love  Him  best;  and  oh,  sir,"  said  Ellen, 
v/eeping,  "  I  do  love  mamma  a  great  deal  better." 

"  You  love  your  mother  better  than  you  do  the 
Saviour  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  how  can  I  help  it  ?  " 

"  Then  if  He  had  left  you  your  mother,  Ellen, 
you  would  never  have  cared  or  thought  about 
Him  ? " 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  Is  it  so  ? — would  you,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  weeping  again, 
— "  oh,  sir  !  how  can  I  help  it  ?  " 

"Then,  Ellen,  can  you  not  see  the  love  of  your 
Heavenly  Father  in  this  trial  ?  He  saw  that  His 
little  child  was  in  danger  of  forgetting  Him,  and 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  1 05 

He  loved  you,  Ellen  ;  and  so  He  has  taken  your 
dear  mother,  and  sent  you  away  where  you  will 
have  no  one  to  look  to  but  Him  ;  and  now  He  says 
to  you,  '  My  daughter,  give  Me  thy  heart.' — Will 
you  do  it,  Ellen  ?  " 

Ellen  wept  exceedingly  while  the  gentleman  was 
saying  these  words,  clasping  his  hands  still  in 
both  hers  ;  but  she  made  no  answer.  He  waited 
till  she  had  become  calmer,  and  then  went  on  in  a 
low  tone, — 

"  What  is  the  reason  that  you  do  not  love  the 
Saviour,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Mamma  says  it  is  because  my  heart  is  so 
hard." 

"  That  is  true  ;  but  you  do  not  know  how  good 
and  how  lovely  He  is,  or  you  could  not  help  loving 
Him.  Do  you  often  think  of  Him,  and  think  much 
of  Him,  and  ask  Him  to  show  you  Himself  thaf 
you  may  love  Him  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,— "not  often." 

"  You  pray  to  Him,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  not  so." 

"  But  you  ought  to  pray  to  Him  so.  We  are  all 
blind  by  nature,  Ellen  ;— we  are  all  hard-hearted ; 
none  of  us  can  see  Him  or  love  Him  unless  He 
opens  our  eyes  and  touches  our  hearts  ;  but  He 
has  promised  to  do  this  for  those  that  seek  Him. 
Do  you  remember  what  the  blind  man  said  when 
Jesus  asked  Him  what  He  should  do  for  him  ?— 
he  answered,  '  Lord,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight ! ' 
That  ought  to  be  your  prayer  now,  and  mine  too  ; 
and  the  Lord  is  just  as  ready  to  hear  us  as  He  was 
to  hear  the  poor  blind  man;  and  you  know  He 
cured  him.     Will  you  ask  Him,  Ellen  ? " 


Io6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

A  smile  was  almost  struggling  through  Ellen's 
tears  as  she  lifted  her  face  to  that  of  her  friend,  but 
she  instantly  looked  down  again. 

"  Shall  I  put  you  in  mind,  Ellen,  of  some  things 
about  Christ  that  ought  to  make  you  love  Him  with 
all  your  heart  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  if  you  please." 

"  Then  tell  me  first  what  it  is  that  makes  you 
love  your  mother  so  much  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you,  sir ; — everything,  I 
think." 

"  I  suppose  the  great  thing  is  that  she  loves  you 
so  much  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  strongly. 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  she  loves  you  ?  how 
has  she  shown  it  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  at  him,  but  could  give  no  answer ; 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  bring  the  whole 
experience  of  her  life  before  him  to  form  one. 

"I  suppose,"  said  her  friend,  "that,  to  begin 
with  the  smallest  thing,  she  has  always  been  watch- 
fully careful  to  provide  everything  that  could  be 
useful  or  necessary  for  you  : — she  never  forgot 
your  wants,  or  was  careless  about  them  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  sir." 

"  And  perhaps  you  recollect  that  she  never 
minded  trouble  or  expense  or  pain  where  your  good 
was  concerned ; — she  would  sacrifice  her  own 
pleasure  at  any  time  for  yours  ?  " 

Ellen's  eyes  gave  a  quick  and  strong  answer  to 
this,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"  And  in  all  your  griefs  and  pleasures  you  were 
sure  of  finding  her  ready  and  willing  to  feel  with 
you  and  for  you,  and   to   help  you  if  she   could  ? 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  107 

And  in  all  the  times  you  have  seen  her  tried,  no 
fatigue  ever  wore  out  her  patience,  nor  any  naughti- 
ness of  yours  ever  lessened  her  love  ;  she  could 
not  be  weary  of  waiting  upon  you  when  you  were 
sick,  nor  of  bearing  with  you  when  you  forgot  your 
duty, — more  ready  always  to  receive  you  than  you 
to  return.     Isn't  it  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  can  recollect  a  great  many  words  and 
looks  of  kindness  and  love — many  and  many 
endeavors  to  teach  you  and  lead  you  in  the  right 
way — all  showing  the  strongest  desire  for  your 
happiness  in  this  world,  and  in  the  next  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  tearfully ;  and  then 
added,  "  Do  you  know  my  mother,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  not  at  all ;  but  my  own 
mother  has  been  in  many  things  like  this  to  me, 
and  I  judged  yours  might  have  been  such  to  you. 
Have  I  described  her  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  exactly." 

"  And  in  return  for  all  this,  you  have  given  this 
dear  mother  the  love  and  gratitude  of  your  whole 
heart,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have,  sir ; "  and  Ellen's  face  said  it 
more  than  her  words. 

"  You  are  very  right,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  to  love 
such  a  mother — to  give  her  all  possible  duty  and 
affection  ; — she  deserves  it.  But,  Ellen,  in  all  these 
very  things  I  have  been  mentioning,  Jesus  Christ 
has  shown  that  He  deserves  it  far  more.  Do  you 
think,  if  you  had  never  behaved  like  a  child  to  your 
mother — if  you  had  never  made  her  the  least 
return  of  love  or  regard — that  she  would  have  con- 
tinued to  love  you  as  she  does  .?  " 


X08  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  do  not  think  she 
would." 

"  Have  you  ever  made  any  fit  return  to  God  for 
His  goodness  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  And  yet  there  has  been  no  change  in  His  kind- 
ness. Just  look  at  it,  and  see  what  He  has  done 
and  is  doing  for  you.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not 
your  mother,  but  He,  who  has  given  you  every 
good  and  pleasant  thing  you  have  enjoyed  in  your 
whole  life.  You  love  your  mother  because  she  is 
so  careful  to  provide  for  all  your  wants ;  but  who 
gave  her  the  materials  to  work  with  ?  she  has  only 
been,  as  it  were,  the  hand  by  which  He  supplied 
you.  And  who  gave  you  such  a  mother  ? — there 
are  many  mothers  not  like  her ; — who  put  into  her 
heart  the  truth  and  love  that  have  been  blessing 
you  ever  since  you  were  born  ?  It  is  all — all  God's 
doing,  from  first  to  last ;  but  His  child  has  for- 
gotten Him  in  the  very  gifts  of  His  mercy.'.' 

Ellen  was  silent,  but  looked  very  grave. 

"  Your  mother  never  minded  her  own  ease  or 
pleasure  when  your  good  was  concerned.  Did 
Christ  mind  His  ?  You  know  what  He  did  to 
save  sinners,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know ;  mamma  often  told  me." 

" '  Though  He  was  rich,  yst  for  our  sake  He 
became  poor,  that  we  through  His  poverty  might 
be  rich.'  He  took  your  burden  of  sin  upon  Him- 
self, and  suffered  that  terrible  punishment — all  to 
save  you,  and  such  as  you.  And  now  He  asks  His 
children  to  leave  off  sinning  and  come  back  to  Him 
who  has  bought  them  with  His  own  blood.  He 
did  this  because  He  loved  you;  does  He  not 
deserve  to  be  loved  in  return  ?  " 


.   THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD.  109 

Ellen  had  nothing  to  say ;  she  hung  down  her 
head  further  and  further. 

"  And  patient  and  kind  as  your  mother  is,  the 
Lord  Jesus  is  kinder  and  more  patient  still.  In  all 
your  life  so  far,  Ellen,  you  have  not  loved  or 
obeyed  Him  ;  and  yet  He  loves  you,  and  is  ready 
to  be  your  friend.  Is  He  not  even  to-day  taking 
away  your  dear  mother  for  the  very  purpose  that 
He  may  draw  you  gently  to  Himself  and  fcld  you 
in  His  arms,  as  He  has  promised  to  do  with  His 
lambs  ?  He  knows  you  can  never  be  happy  any- 
where else." 

The  gentleman  paused  again,  for  he  saw  that 
the  little  listener's  mind  was  full. 

"  Has  not  Christ  shown  that  He  'ove^  you  better 
even  than  your  mother  does  ?  And  were  there  ever 
sweeter  words  of  kindness  than  these  ? — • 

" '  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me, 
and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.' 

"  *  I  am  the  good  shepherd  ;  the  good  shepherd 
giveth  his  life  for  the  sheep.' 

" '  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love  ; 
therefore  with  loving  kindness  have  I  drawn  thee.' " 

He  waited  a  minute,  and  then  added,  gently, 
"  Will  you  come  to  Him,  Ellen  ?  " 

Ellen  lifted  her  tearful  eyes  to  his :  but  there 
were  tears  there  too,  and  her  own  sank  instantly. 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  sobbed 
out  in  broken  words,  "  Oh,  if  I  could  ! — but  I  don't 
know  how." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  be  His  child,  Ellen  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir — if  I  could." 

u  I  know,  my  child,  that  sinful  heart  of  yours  is 


no  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

in  the  way,  but  the  Lord  Jesus  can  change  it,  and 
will,  if  you  will  give  it  to  Him.  He  is  looking 
upon  you  now,  Ellen,  with  more  kindness  and  love 
than  any  earthly  father  or  mother  could,  waiting 
for  you  to  give  that  little  heart  of  yours  to  Him, 
that  He  may  make  it  holy  and  fill  it  with  blessing. 
He  says,  you  know,  '  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door 
and  knock.'     Do  not  grieve  Him  away,  Ellen." 

Ellen  sobbed,  but  all  the  passion  and  bitterness 
of  her  tears  was  gone.  Her  heart  was  completely 
melted. 

"  If  your  mother  were  here,  and  could  do  for  you 
what  you  want,  would  you  doubt  her  love  to  do  it  ? 
— would  you  have  any  difficulty  in  asking  her  ?  " 

"Oh,  no!" 

"  Then  do  not  doubt  His  love  who  loves  you 
better  still.  Come  to  Jesus.  Do  not  fancy  He  is 
away  up  in  heaven  out  of  reach  or  hearing, — He  is 
here,  close  to  you,  and  knows  every  wish  and  throb 
of  your  heart.  Think  you  are  in  His  presence  and 
at  His  feet, — even  now, — and  say  to  Him  in  your 
heart,  '  Lord,  look  upon  me — I  am  not  fit  to  come 
to  Thee,  but  Thou  hast  bid  me  come — take  me  and 
make  me  Thine  own — take  this  hard  heart  that  I 
can  do  nothing  with,  and  make  it  holy  and  fill  it 
with  Thy  love — I  give  it  and  myself  into  Thy  hands, 
O  dear  Saviour  ! '  " 

These  words  were  spoken  very  low,  that  only 
Ellen,  could  catch  them.  Her  bowed  head  sank 
lower  and  lower  till  he  ceased  speaking.  He  added 
no  more  for  some  time  ;  waited  till  she  had  resumed 
her  usual  attitude  and  appearance,  and  then 
said, — 

"  Ellen,  could  you  join  in  heart  with  my  words  ?" 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  m 

"  I  did,  sir,— I  couldn't  help  it,— all  but  the  last." 

"All  but  the  last?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But,  Ellen,  if  you  say  the  first  part  of  my  prayer 
with  your  whole  heart,  the  Lord  will  enable  you  to 
say  the  last  too, — do  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Will  you  not  make  that  your  constant  prayer 
till  you  are  heard  and  answered  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

And  he  thought  he  saw  that  she  was  in  earnest. 

"  Perhaps  the  answer  may  not  come  at  once, — 
it  does  not  always  ; — but  it  will  come,  as  surely  as 
the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow  morning.  '  Then  shall 
we  know,  if  we  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord.'  But 
then  you  must  be  in  earnest.  And  if  you  are  in 
earnest,  is  there  nothing  you  have  to  do  besides 
praying  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  at  him  without  making  any  answer. 

"  When  a  person  is  in  earnest,  how  does  he  show 
it?" 

"  By  doing  everything  he  possibly  can  to  get 
what  he  wants." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  her  friend,  smiling ;  "  and 
has  God  bidden  us  do  nothing  besides  pray  for  a 
new  heart  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir, — He  has  told  us  to  do  a  great 
many  things." 

"  And  will  He  be  likely  to  grant  that  prayer, 
Ellen,  if  He  sees  that  you  do  not  care  about  dis- 
pleasing Him  in  those  '  great  many  things  '  ? — will 
He  judge  that  you  are  sincere  in  wishing  for  a  new 
heart  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir  !  " 


112  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Then  if  you  are  resolved  to  be  a  Christian,  you 
will  not  be  contented  with  praying  for  a  new  heart, 
but  you  will  begin  at  once  to  be  a  servant  of  God. 
You  can  do  nothing  well  without  help,  but  you  are 
sure  the  help  will  come  ;  and  from  this  good  day  you 
will  seek  to  know  and  to  do  the  will  of  God,  trusting 
in  His  dear  Son  to  perfect  that  which  concerneth 
you.  My  little  child,"  said  the  gentleman,  softly 
and  kindly,  "are  you  ready  to  say  you  will  do 
this?" 

As  she  hesitated,  he  took  a  little  book  from  his 
pocket,  and  turning  over  the  leaves,  said,  "  I  am 
going  to  leave  you  for  a  little  while — I  have  a  few 
moments'  business  downstairs  to  attend  to ;  and  I 
want  you  to  look  over  this  hymn  and  think  care- 
fully of  what  I  have  been  saying,  will  you  ? — and 
resolve  what  you  will  do." 

Ellen  got  off  his  knee,  where  she  had  been  sit- 
ting all  this  while,  and  silently  taking  the  book,  sat 
down  in  the  chair  he  had  quitted.  Tears  ran  fast 
again,  and  many  thoughts  passed  through  her 
mind,  as  her  eyes  went  over  and  over  the  words  to 
which  he  had  pointed  : 

"  Behold  the  Saviour  at  thy  door, 

He  gently  knocks,  —has  knocked  before, — 

Has  waited  long, — is  waiting  still, — 

You  treat  no  other  friend  so  ill. 
*'  Oh,  lovely  attitude  !  —He  stands 

With  open  heart  and  outstretched  hands. 

Oh  matchless  kindness! — and  He  shows 

This  matchless  kindness  to  His  foes. 
*'  Admit  Him — for  the  human  breast 

Ne'er  entertained  so  kind  a  guest. 

Admit  Him — or  the  hour's  at  hand 

When  at  His  door,  denied,  you'll  stand. 
*'  Open  my  heart,  Lord,  enter  in  ; 

Slay  every  foe,  aid  conoue''  sin 

Here  now  to  The^  I  all  r  sisrn, — 

My  body,  soul,  ;  ■  1  ■  Thine." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  113 

The  last  two  lines  Ellen  longed  to  say,  but  could 
not;  the  two  preceding  were  the  very  speech  of 
her  heart. 

Not  more  than  fifteen  minutes  had  passed  when 
her  friend  came  back  again.  The  book  hung  in 
Ellen's  hand ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  floor. 

"Well,"  he  said  kindly,  and  taking  her  hand, 
"  what's  your  decision  ? " 

Ellen  looked  up. 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  on  that  matter 
we  were  talking  about  ? " 

"Yes,  sir,"  Ellen  said,  in  a  low  voice,  casting  her 
eyes  down  again. 

"  And  how  have  you  decided,  my  child  ? " 

"  I  will  try  to  do  as  you  said,  sir." 

"  You  will  begin  to  follow  your  Saviour,  and  to 
please  Him,  from  this  day  forward  ? " 

"  I  will  try,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  meeting  his  eyes  as 
she  spoke.  Again  the  look  she  saw  made  her 
burst  into  tears.     She  wept  violently. 

"  God  bless  you  and  help  you,  my  dear  Ellen," 
said  he,  gently  passing  his  hand  over  her  head  ; — 
"  but  do  not  cry  any  more — you  have  shed  too 
many  tears  this  morning  already.  We  will  not  talk 
about  this  any  more  now." 

And  he  spoke  only  soothing  and  quieting  words 
for  a  while  to  her  ;  and  then  asked  if  she  would  like 
to  go  over  the  boat  and  see  the  different  parts  of 
it.  Ellen's  joyful  agreement  with  this  proposal  was 
only  qualified  by  the  fear  of  giving  him  trouble. 
But  he  put  that  entirely  by. 
8 


ri4  THE   WIDE   WIDE   WORLD, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Time  and  the  hour  run  though  the  roughest  day. 

Shakspearr. 

The  going  over  the  boat  held  them  a  long  time, 
for  Ellen's  new  friend  took  kind  pains  to  explain  to 
her  whatever  he  thought  he  could  make  interesting ; 
he  was  amused  to  find  how  far  she  pushed  her  in- 
quiries into  the  how  and  the  why  of  things.  For 
the  time  her  sorrows  were  almost  forgotten. 

"  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  "  said  he,  when  they 
had  at  last  gone  through  the  whole ; — "  would  you 
like  to  go  to  your  friends  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  any  friends  on  board,  sir,"  said  Ellen, 
with  a  swelling  heart. 

"  Haven't  any  friends  on  board !  what  do  you 
mean  ?     Are  you  alone  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen, — "  not  exactly  alone  ;  my 
father  put  me  in  the  care  of  a  lady  that  is  going  to 
Thirlwall  ; — but  they  are  strangers  and  not  friends." 

"  Are  they  z^friends  ?  I  hope  you  don't  think, 
Ellen,  that  strangers  cannot  be  friends,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  sir,  I  don't !  "  said  Ellen,  looking 
up  with  a  face  that  was  fairly  brilliant  with  its 
expression  of  gratitude  and  love.  But  casting  it 
down  again,  she  added,  "  But  they  are  not  my 
friends,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said  smiling,  "  will  you  come 
with  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  if  you  will  let  me, — and  if  I  sha'n't 
be  a  trouble  to  you,  sir." 

"  Come  this  wav,"  said  he,  "  and  we'll  see  if  we 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  115 

cannot  find  a  nice  place  to  sit  down,  where  no  one 
will  trouble  us." 

Such  a  place  was  found.  And  Ellen  would  have 
been  quite  satisfied  though  the  gentleman  had  done 
no  more  than  merely  permit  her  to  remain  there  by 
his  side  ;  but  he  took  out  his  little  Bible,  and  read 
and  talked  to  her  for  some  time,  so  pleasantly  that 
neither  her  weariness  nor  the  way  could  be  thought 
of. 

When  he  ceased  reading  to  her  and  began  to  read 
to  himself,  weariness  and  faintness  stole  over  her. 
She  had  had  nothing  to  eat,  and  had  been  violently 
excited  that  day.  A  little  while  she  sat  in  a  dreamy 
sort  of  quietude, — then  her  thoughts  grew  misty, — ■ 
and  the  end  of  it  was,  she  dropped  her  head 
against  the  arm  of  her  friend  and  fell  fast  asleep. 
He  smiled  at  first,  but  one  look  at  the  very  pale 
little  face  changed  the  expression  of  his  own.  He 
gently  put  his  arm  round  her  and  drew  her  head  to 
a  better  resting-place  than  it  had  chosen. 

And  there  she  slept  till  the  dinner-bell  rang. 
Timmins  was  sent  out  to  look  for  her,  but  Timmins 
did  not  choose  to  meddle  with  the  grave  protector 
Ellen  seemed  to  have  gained  ;  and  Mrs.  Dunscombe 
declared  herself  rejoiced  that  any  other  hands  should 
have  taken  the  charge  of  her. 

After  dinner,  Ellen  and  her  friend  went  up  to  the 
promenade  deck  again,  and  there  for  a  while  they 
paced  up  and  down,  enjoying  the  pleasant  air  and 
quick  motion,  and  the  lovely  appearance  of  every- 
thing in  the  mild  hazy  sunlight.  Another  gentle- 
man, however,  joining  them,  and  entering  into  con- 
versation, Ellen  silently  quitted  her  friend's  hand 
and  went  and  sat  down  at  the  side  of  the  boat. 


/i6  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

After  taking  a  few  turns  more,  and  while  still 
engaged  in  talking,  he  drew  his  little  hymn-book 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  with  a  smile  put  it  into  Ellen's 
hand  as  he  passed.  She  gladly  received  it,  and 
spent  an  hour  or  more  very  pleasantly  in  studying 
and  turning  it  over.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the 
stranger  Laving  left  him,  Ellen's  friend  came  and 
sat  down  by  her  side. 

"  How  do  you  like  my  little  book  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Oh,  very  much  indeed,  sir." 

"  Then  you  love  hymns,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  sir,  dearly." 

"  Do  you  sometimes  learn  them  by  heart  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  often ;  mamma  often  made  me. 
I  have  learnt  two  since  I  have  been  sitting  there." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  said  he  ; — "  which  are  they  ?  " 

"  One  of  them  is  the  one  you  showed  me  this 
morning,  sir." 

"  And  what  is  your  mind  now  about  the  question 
I  asked  you  this  morning  ?  " 

Ellen  cast  down  her  eyes  from  his  inquiring 
glance,  and  answered  in  a  low  tone,  "  Just  what  it 
was  then,  sir." 

"  Have  you  been  thinking  of  it  since  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  it  the  whole  time,  sir." 

"  And  you  are  resolved  you  will  obey  Christ 
henceforth  ?  " 

"  I  am  resolved  to  try,  sir." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  if  you  are  in  earnest  you  will 
not  try  in  vain.  He  never  yet  failed  any  that  sin- 
cerely sought  Him.     Have  you  a  Bible  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  a  beautiful  one ;  mamma  gave  it 
to  me  the  other  day." 

He  took  the  hymn-book  from  her  hand,  and  turn* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO'KLD.  117 

ing  over  the  leaves,  marked  several  places  in 
pencil. 

"  I  am  going  to  give  you  this,"  he  said,,  "that  it 
may  serve  to  remind  you  of  what  we  have  talked 
of  to-day,  and  of  your  resolution." 

Ellen  flushed  high  with  pleasure. 

*'  I  have  put  this  mark,"  said  he,  showing  her  a 
particular  one,  "  in  a  few  places  of  this  book,  for 
you ;  wherever  you  find  it,  you  may  know  there  is 
something  I  want  you  to  take  special  notice  of. 
There  are  some  other  marks  here,  too^  but  they  are 
mine  ;  these  are  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  delighted  ;  "  I  shall 
not  forget." 

He  knew  from  her  face  what  she  meant ; — not 
the  marks. 

The  day  wore  on,  thanks  to  the  unwearied  kind- 
ness of  her  friend,  with  great  comparative  comfort 
to  Ellen.  Late  in  the  afternoon  they  were  resting 
from  a  long  walk  up  and  down  the  deck. 

"  What  have  you  got  in  this  package  that  you 
take  such  care  of  ?  "  said  he  smiling. 

"  Oh  !  candies,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  am  always  for- 
getting them.  I  meant  to  ask  you  to  take  some. 
Will  you  have  some,  sir  ?  " 

"  Thank  you.     What  are  they  ?  " 

"  Almost  all  kinds,  I  believe,  sir ;  I  think  the 
almonds  are  the  best." 

He  took  one. 

"  Pray,  take  some  more,  sir,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I 
don't  care  for  them  in  the  least." 

"  Then  I  am  more  of  a  child  than  you, — in  this,  at 
any  rate, — for  I  do  care  for  them.  But  I  have  a  little 
headache  to-day  ;  I  mustn't  meddle  with  sweets." 


Ji8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Then  take  some  for  to-morrow,  sir ; — please 
do  !  "  said  Ellen,  dealing  them  out  very  freely. 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  said  he, — "  not  a  bit  more ;  this 
won't  do, — I  must  put  some  of  these  back  again  , 
you'll  want  them  to-morrow,  too." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall,"  said  Ellen  ;— "  I  haven't 
wanted  to  touch  them  to-day." 

"  Oh,  you'll  feel  brighter  to-morrow,  after  a  night's 
sleep.  But  aren't  you  afraid  of  catching  cold  ? 
This  wind  is  blowing  pretty  fresh,  and  you've  been 
fconnetless  all  day  : — what's  the  reason  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  down,  and  colored  a  good  deal. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  he,  laughing  ;  "  has 
any  mischief  befallen  your  bonnet  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen  in  a  low  tone,  her  color 
mounting  higher  and  higher ; — "  it  was  laughed  at 
this  morning." 

"  Laughed  at ! — who  laughed  at  it  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Dunscombe  and  her  daughter,  and  hex 
maid." 

"  Did  they  ?  I  don't  see  much  reason  in  that,  I 
confess.  What  did  they  think  was  the  matter 
with  it  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  ; — they  said  it  was  outlandish, 
and  what  a  figure  I  looked  in  it." 

' '  Well,  certainly  that  was  not  very  polite.  Put 
it  on  and  let  me  see." 

Ellen  obeyed. 

"  I  am  not  the  best  judge  of  ladies'  bonnets,  it  is 
true,"  said  he,  "  but  I  can  see  nothing  about  it 
that  is  not  perfectly  proper  and  suitable, — nothing 
in  the  world  !  So  that  is  what  has  kept  you  bare- 
headed all  day  ?  Didn't  your  mother  wish  you  to 
wear  that  bonnet  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  119 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  that  ought  to  be  enough  for  you.  Will  you 
be  ashamed  of  what  she  approved,  because  some 
people  that  haven't  probably  half  her  sense  choose 
to  make  merry  with  it  ? — is  that  right  ?  "  he.  said, 
gently.     "  Is  that  honoring  her  as  she  deserves  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  looking  up  into  his  face, 
"  but  I  never  thought  of  that  before  ; — I  am  sorry." 

"  Never  mind  being  laughed  at,  my  child.  If 
your  mother  says  a  thing  is  right,  that's  enough  for 
you — let  them  laugh  !  " 

"  I  won't  be  ashamed  of  my  bonnet  any  more," 
said  Ellen,  tying  it  on ;  "  but  they  made  me  very 
unhappy  about  it,  and  very  angry  too." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  her  friend,  gravely. 
"  Have  you  quite  got  over  it,  Ellen  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir, — long  ago." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  angry  now,  sir." 

"  Is  there  no  unkindness  left  towards  the  people 
who  laughed  at  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  them  much,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  how 
can  I  ? " 

"  You  cannot  of  course  like  the  company  of  ill- 
behaved  people,  and  I  do  not  wish  that  you  should  ; 
but  you  can  and  ought  to  feel  just  as  kindly  dis- 
posed towards  them  as  if  they  had  never  offended 
you — just  as  willing  and  inclined  to  please  them  or 
do  them  good.  Now,  could  you  offer  Miss — what's 
her  name  ? — some  of  your  candies  with  as  hearty 
good- will  as  you  could  before  she  laughed  at  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  couldn't.  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  ever 
wished  to  see  them  again." 

"  Then,  uiy  dear  Ellen,  you  have  something  to  do, 


120  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

if  you  were  in  earnest  in  the  resolve  you  made  this 
morning,  f  If  ye  forgive  unto  men  their  trespasses, 
My  Heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive  you ;  but  if 
ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither  will  My 
Father  forgive  your  trespasses  ! '  " 

He  was  silent,  and  so  was  Ellen,  for  some  time. 
His  words  had  raised  a  struggle  in  her  mind ;  and 
she  kept  her  face  turned  towards  the  shore,  so  that 
her  bonnet  shielded  it  from  view ;  but  she  did  not 
in  the  least  know  what  she  was  looking  at.  The 
sun  had  been  some  time  descending  through  a  sky 
of  cloudless  splendor,  and  now  was  just  kissing 
the  mountain  tops  of  the  western  horizon.  Slowly 
and  with  great  majesty  he  sank  behind  the  distant 
blue  line,  till  only  a  glittering  edge  appeared, — and 
then  that  was  gone.  There  were  no  clouds  hang- 
ing over  his  setting,  to  be  gilded  and  purpled  by 
the  parting  rays,  but  a  region  of  glory  long  remained, 
to  show  where  his  path  had  been. 

The  eyes  of  both  were  fixed  upon  this  beautiful 
scene,  but  only  one  was  thinking  of  it.  Just  as  the 
last  glimpse  of  the  sun  disappeared  Ellen  turned 
her  face,  bright  again,  towards  her  companion. 
He  was  intently  gazing  towards  the  hills  that  had 
so  drawn  Ellen's  attention  a  while  ago,  and  think- 
ing still  more  intently,  it  was  plain  ;  so,  though  her 
mouth  had  been  open  to  speak,  she  turned  her  face 
away  again  as  suddenly  as  it  had  just  sought  his. 
He  saw  the  motion,  however. 

"  What  is  it,  Ellen  ?  "  he  said. 

Ellen  looked  again  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  sir,  of  what  you  said  to 
me." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he,  smiling  in  answer. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  12 1 

"  I  can't  like  Mrs.  Dunscombe  and  Miss  Duns- 
combe  as  well  as  if  they  hadn't  done  so  to  me,  but 
I  will  try  to  behave  as  if  nothing  had  been  the 
matter,  and  be  as  kind  and  polite  to  them  as  if 
they  had  been  kind  and  polite  to  me." 

"  And  how  about  the  sugar-plums  ? " 

"  The  sugar-plums  !  Oh,"  said  Ellen,  laughing, 
"  Miss  Margaret  may  have  them  all  if  she  likes — ■ 
I'm  quite  willing.  Not  but  I  had  rather  give  them 
to  you,  sir." 

"  You  give  me  something  a  great  deal  better 
when  I  see  you  try  to  overcome  a  wrong  feeling 
You  mustn't  rest  till  you  get  rid  of  every  bit  of  ill- 
will  that  you  feel  for  this  and  any  other  unkindness- 
you  may  suffer.  You  cannot  do  it  yourself,  but  you 
know  who  can  help  you.  I  hope  you  have  asked 
Him,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  I  have,  sir,  indeed." 

"  Keep  asking  Him,  and  He  will  do  everything 
for  you." 

A  silence  of  some  length  followed.  Ellen  began 
to  feel  very  much  the  fatigue  of  this  exciting  day, 
and  sat  quietly  by  her  friend's  side,  leaning  against 
him.  The  wind  had  changed  about  sundown,  and 
now  blew  light  from  the  south,  so  that  they  did  not 
feel  it  at  all. 

The  light  gradually  faded  away,  till  only  a  silver 
glow  in  the  west  showed  where  the  sun  had  sety 
and  the  sober  gray  of  twilight  was  gently  stealing 
over  all  the  bright  colors  of  sky,  and  river,  and 
hill ;  now  and  then  a  twinkling  light  began  to  ap- 
pear along  the  shores. 

"You  are  very  tired,"  said  Ellen's  friend  to 
her, — "  I  see  you  are.     A  little  more  patience,  my 


122  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

child  ; — we  shall  be  at  our  journey's  end  before  a 
very  great  while." 

"  I  am  almost  sorry,"  said  Ellen,  "though  I  am 
tired.  We  don't  go  in  the  steamboat  to-morrow ; 
do  we,  sir  ?  " 

"  No, — in  the  stage." 

"  Shall  you  be  in  the  stage,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child.  But  I  am  glad  you  and  I  have 
spent  this  day  together." 

"  Oh,  sir  ! "  said  Ellen,  "  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you !  " 

There  was  silence  again,  and  the  gentleman  al- 
most thought  his  little  charge  had  fallen  asleep, 
she  sat  so  still.  But  she  suddenly  spoke  again, 
and  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  showed  sleep  was  far 
away. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  where  mamma  is  now  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  doubt,  my  child,  from  what  you  told 
me,  that  it  is  well  with  her  wherever  she  is.  Let 
that  thought  comfort  you  whenever  you  remember 
her." 

"  She  must  want  me  so  much,"  said  poor  Ellen, 
in  a  scarcely  audible  voice. 

"  She  has  not  lost  her  best  friend,  my  child." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  with  whom  grief  was 
now  getting  the  mastery, — "  but  oh  !  it's  just  near 
the  time  when  I  used  to  make  the  tea  for  her — ■ 
who'll  make  it  now  ?  she'll  want  me, — oh,  what 
shall  I  do  !  "  and  overcome  completely  by  this 
recollection,  she  threw  herself  into  her  friend's 
arms  and  sobbed  aloud. 

There  was  no  reasoning  against  this.  He  did 
not  attempt  it ;  but  with  the  utmost  gentleness  and 
tenderness  endeavored,  as  soon  as  he  might,   to 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  123 

soothe  and  calm  her.  He  succeeded  at  last ;  with 
a  sort  of  despairing  submission,  Ellen  ceased  her 
tears,  and  arose  to  her  former  position.  But  he  did 
not  rest  from  his  kind  endeavors  till  her  mind  was 
really  eased  and  comforted ;  which,  however,  was 
not  long  before  the  lights  of  a  city  began  to  appear 
in  the  distance.  And  with  them  appeared  a  dusky 
figure  ascending  the  stairs,  which  upon  nearer  ap- 
proach, proved  by  the  voice  to  be  Timmins. 

"  Is  this  Miss  Montgomery  ?  "  said  she  ; — "  I 
can't  see,  I  am  sure,  it's  so  dark.  Is  that  you,  Miss 
Montgomery  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,  "  it  is  I ;  do  you  want  me  ? " 

"  If  you  please,  miss,  Mrs.  Dunscombe  wants 
you  to  come  right  down  ;  we're  almost  in,  she  says, 
miss." 

"  I'll  come  directly,  Miss  Timmins,"  said  Ellen. 
"  Don't  wait  for  me, — I  won't  be  a  minute, — I'll 
come  directly." 

Miss  Timmins  retired,  standing  still  a  good  deal 
in  awe  of  the  grave  personage  whose  protection 
Ellen  seemed  to  have  gained. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Ellen,  standing  up  and  extend- 
ing her  hand ; — "  good-bye,  sir.' 

She  could  hardly  say  it.  He  drew  her  towards 
him  and  kissed  her  cheek  once  or  twice  ;  it  was 
well  he  did ;  for  it  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  El- 
len's heart  that  she  did  not  get  over  that  evening, 
nor  all  the  next  day. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child,"  he  said,  gravely  but 
cheerfully  ;  "  and  good-night ! — you  will  feel  better, 
I  trust,  when  you  have  had  some  rest  and  refresh- 
ment." 

He  took  care  of  her  down  the  stairs,  and  saw  hef 


124  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

safe  to  the  very  door  of  the  saloon,  and  within  it; 
and  there  again  took  her  hand  and  kindly  bade  her 
good-night ! 

Ellen  entered  the  saloon  only  to  sit  down  and 
cry  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  saw  and 
heard  nothing  till  Mrs.  Dunscombe's  voice  bade 
her  make  haste  and  be  ready,  for  they  were  going 
ashore  in  five  minutes. 

And  in  less  than  five  minutes  ashore  they 
went. 

"  Which  hotel,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  servant  who 
carried  her  baggage, — "  the  Eagle,  or  Foster's  ? " 

"  The  Eagle,"  said  Mrs.  Dunscombe. 

"  Come  this  way  then,  ma'am,"  said  another 
man,  the  driver  of  the  Eagle  carriage, — "  now, 
ma'am,  step  In,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Dunscombe  put  her  daughter  in. 

"  But  it's  full !  "  said  she  to  the  driver  ;  "  there 
isn't  room  for  another  one  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  there  is,"  said  the  driver,  hold- 
ing the  door  open ;  "  there's  plenty  of  room  for 
you,  ma'am, — just  get  in,  ma'am,  if  you  please, — 
we'll  be  there  in  less  than  two  minutes." 

"  Timmins,  you'll  have  to  walk,"  said  Mrs. 
Dunscombe.  "  Miss  Montgomery,  would  you 
rather  ride,  or  walk  with  Timmins  ?  " 

"  How  far  is  it,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  bless  me  !  how  can  I  tell  how  far  it  is  ? 
I  don't  know,  I  am  sure, — not  far  ; — say  quick, — ■ 
would  you  rather  walk  or  ride  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  walk,  ma'am,  if  you  please/' 
said  Ellen. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Dunscombe,  getting  in  j 
— "  Timmins,  you  know  the  way." 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  125 

And  off  went  the  coach  with  its  load  ;  but  tired 
as  she  was,  Ellen  did  not  wish  herself  along. 

Picking  a  passage-way  out  of  the  crowd,  she  and 
Timmins  now  began  to  make  their  way  up  one  of 
the  comparatively  quiet  streets. 

It  was  a  strange  place — that  she  felt.  She  had 
lived  long  enough  in  the  place  she  had  left  to  feel 
at  home  there  ;  but  here  she  came  to  no  street  or 
crossing  that  she  had  ever  seen  before ;  nothing 
looked  familiar ;  all  reminded  her  that  she  was  a 
traveler.  Only  one  pleasant  thing  Ellen  saw  on 
her  walk,  and  that  was  the  sky  ;  and  that  looked 
just  as  it  did  at  home  ;  and  very  often  Ellen's  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  it,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
Miss  Timmins,  who  had  to  be  not  a  little  watchful 
for  the  safety  of  Ellen's  feet  while  her  eyes  were 
thus  employed.  She  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
Ellen,  however,  and  let  her  do  as  she  pleased, 
keeping  all  her  wonderment  to  herself. 

"  Take  care,  Miss  Ellen  !  "  cried  Timmins,  giv- 
ing her  arm  a  great  pull, — "  I  declare  I  just  saved 
you  out  of  that  gutter  !  Poor  child  !  you  are  dread- 
fully tired,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  tired,  Miss  Timmins,"  said 
Ellen,  "  have  we  much  further  to  go  ?  " 

"  Not  a  great  deal,  dear ;  cheer  up !  we  are 
almost  there.  I  hope  Mrs.  Dunscotnbe  will  want 
to  ride  one  of  these  days  herself,  and  can't." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  so,  Miss  Timmins,"  said  Ellen, 
— "  I  don't  wish  so,  indeed." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  you  would,"  said  Tim- 
mins,— "  I  should  think  you'd  be  fit  to  poison 
her ; — /should,  I  know,  if  I  was  in  your  place." 


126  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ellen,  "  that  wouldn't  be  right,— 
that  would  be  very  wrong." 

"  Wrong  !  "  said  Timmins, — "  why  would  it  be 
wrong  ? — she  hasn't  behaved  good  to  you." 

"Yes,"  said  Ellen, — "but  don't  you  know  the 
Bible  says  if  we  do  not  forgive  people  what  they 
do  to  us,  we  shall  not  be  forgiven  ourselves  ?  " 

u  Well,  I  declare  !  "  said  Miss  Timmins,  "  you 
beat  all  !  But  here's  the  Eagle  hotel  at  last, — and 
I  am  glad  for  your  sake,  dear." 

Ellen  was  shown  into  the  ladies'  parlor.  She 
was  longing  for  a  place  to  rest,  but  she  saw  directly 
it  was  not  to  be  there.  The  room  was  large  and 
barely  furnished  ;  and  round  it  were  scattered  part 
of  the  carriage-load  of  people  that  had  arrived  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  her.  They  were  waiting 
till  their  rooms  should  be  ready.  Ellen  silently 
found  herself  a  chair  and  sat  down  to  wait  with 
the  rest,  as  patiently  as  she  might.  Few  of  them 
had  as  much  cause  for  impatience  ;  but  she  was  the 
only  perfectly  mute  and  uncomplaining  one  there. 
Her  two  companions,  however,  between  them, 
fully  made  up  her  share  for  fretting.  At  length,  a 
servant  brought  the  welcome  news  that  their  room 
was  ready,  and  the  three  marched  upstairs.  It 
made  Ellen's  very  heart  glad  when  they  got  there, 
to  find  a  good-sized,  cheerful-looking  bedroom, 
comfortably  furnished,  with  a  bright  fire  burning, 
large  curtains  let  down  to  the  floor,  and  a  nice 
warm  carpet  upon  it.  Taking  off  her  bonnet,  and 
only  that,  she  sat  down  on  a  low  cushion  by  the 
corner  of  the  fire  place,  and  leaning  her  head 
against  the  jamb,  fell  fast  asleep  almost  immediately. 
Mrs.  Dunscombe  set  about  arranging  herself  for 
the  tea-table. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  127 

"  Well !  "  she  said, — "  one  day  of  this  precious 
journey  is  over  !  " 

"  Does   Ellen  go  with  us  to-morrow,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !— quite  to  Thirlwall." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  had  much  plague  with  her 
to-day,  mamma." 

"  No — I  am  sure  I  am  much  obliged  to  whoever 
has  kept  her  out  of  my  way." 

"  Where  is  she  going  to  sleep  to-night  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Margaret. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure, — I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  have  a  cot  brought  in  here  for  her." 

"  What  a  plague  !  "  said  Miss  Margaret.  "  It 
will  lumber  up  the  room  so  !  There's  no  place  to 
put  it.     Couldn't  she  sleep  with  Timmins  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  could,  of  course — just  as  well  as  not, 
only  people  would  make  such  a  fuss  about  it ; — it 
wouldn't  do  ;  we  must  bear  it  for  once.  I'll  try 
and  not  be  caught  in  such  a  scrape  again." 

"  How  provoking  !  "  said  Miss  Margaret ; — "  how 
came  father  to  do  so  without  asking  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  bewitched,  I  suppose, — men  always 
are.  Look  here,  Margaret, — I  can't  go  down  to 
tea  with  a  train  of  children  at  my  heels. — I  shall 
leave  you  and  Ellen  up  here,  and  I'll  send  up  your 
tea  to  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  mamma  !  "  said  Margaret,  eagerly  ; 
"  I  want  to  go  down  with  you.  Look  here,  mamma  ! 
she's  asleep  and  you  needn't  wake  her  up — that's 
excuse  enough  ;  you  can  leave  her  to  have  her 
tea  up  here,  and  let  me  go  down  with  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dunscombe, — "  I  don't  care 
— but  make  haste  to  get  ready,  for  I  expect  every 
minute  when  the  tea-bell  will  ring. " 


128  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Timmins  !  Timmins  !  "  cried  Margaret,— 
"  come  here  and  fix  me — quick  ! — and  step  softly, 
will  you  ? — or  you'll  wake  that  young  one  up,  and 
then,  you  see,  I  shall  have  to  stay  upstairs." 

This  did  not  happen,  however.  Ellen's  sleep 
was  much  too  deep  to  be  easily  disturbed.  The 
tea-bell  itself,  loud  and  shrill  as  it  was,  did  not 
even  make  her  eyelids  tremble.  After  Mrs.  and 
Miss  Dunscombe  were  gone  down,  Timmins  em- 
ployed herself  a  little  while  in  putting  all  things 
about  the  room  to  rights ;  and  then  sat  down  to 
take  her  rest,  dividing  her  attention  between  the 
fire  and  Ellen,  towards  whom  she  seemed  to  feel 
more  and  more  kindness,  as  she  saw  that  she  was 
likely  to  receive  it  from  no  one  else.  Presently 
came  a  knock  at  the  door  ; — "  The  tea  for  the 
young  lady, "  on  a  waiter.  Miss  Timmins  silently 
took  the  tray  from  the  man  and  shut  the  door. 
"  Well !  "  said  she  to  herself, — "  if  that  ain't  a  pretty 
supper  to  send  up  to  a  child  that  has  gone  two 
hundred  miles  to-day,  and  had  no  breakfast ! — a  cup 
of  tea,  cold  enough  I'll  warrant, — bread  and  butter 
enough  for  a  bird, — and  two  little  slices  of  ham  as 
thick  as  a  wafer  ! — well,  I  just  wish  Mrs.  Duns- 
combe had  to  eat  it  herself,  and  nothing  else  ! — 
I'm  not  going  to  wake  her  up  for  that,  I  know,  till 
I  see  whether  something  better  ain't  to  be  had  for 
love  nor  money.  So  just  you  sleep  on,  darling, 
till  I  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

In  great  indignation,  downstairs  went  Miss  Tim- 
mins ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  met  a  rosy- 
cheeked,  pleasant-faced  girl  coming  up. 

"  Are  you  the  chambermaid  ?  "  said  Timmins. 

"  I'm  one  of   the   chambermaids,"  said  the  girl, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  129 

smiling ,-    "  there's    three    of     us   in   this   house, 
dear." 

"Well,  I  am  a  stranger  here,"  said  Timmins, 
"  and  I  want  you  to  help  me,  and  I  am  sure  you 
will.  I've  got  a  dear  little  girl  upstairs  that  I  want 
some  supper  for — she's  a  sweet  child,  and  she's 
under  the  care  of  some  proud  folks  here  in  the  tea- 
room that  think  it's  too  much  trouble  to  look  at 
her  ;  and  they've  sent  her  up  about  supper  enough 
for  a  mouse, — and  she  half  starving  ;  she  lost  her 
breakfast  this  morning  by  their  ugliness.  Now  ask 
one  of  the  waiters  to  give  me  something  nice  for 
her,  will  you  ? — there's  a  good  girl." 

"  James  !  " — said  the  girl  in  a  loud  whisper  to 
one  of  the  waiters  who  was  crossing  the  hall.  He 
instantly  stopped  and  came  towards  them,  tray  in 
hand,  and  making  several  extra  polite  bows  as  he 
drew  near. 

"  What's  on  the  supper-table,  James  ? "  said  the 
smiling  damsel. 

"  Everything  that  ought  to  be  there,  Miss  Johns," 
said  the  man,  with  another  flourish. 

"  Come,  stop  your  nonsense,"  said  the  girl,  "  and 
tell  me  quick — I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  It's  a  pleasure  to  perform  your  commands,  Miss 
Johns.  I'll  give  you  the  whole  bill  of  fare.  There's 
a  very  fine  beefsteak,  fricasseed  chickens,  stewed 
oysters,  sliced  ham,  cheese,  preserved  quinces, — 
with  the  usual  complement  of  bread  and  toast  and 
muffins,  and  doughnuts,  and  new-year  cake,  and 
plenty  of  butter, — likewise  salt  and  pepper, — like* 
wise  tea  and  coffee,  and  sugar, — likewise " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  girl.  "  Do  stop,  will  you  ?  " 
— and  then,  laughing  and  turning  to  Miss  Timmins, 
she  added,  "  What  will  you  have  ? " 


130  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  some  of  the  chickens  and 
Oysters,"  said  Timmins ;  "  that  will  be  the  nicest 
for  her, — and  a  muffin  or  two." 

"  Now,  James,  do  you  hear  ?  "  said  the  chamber- 
maid ;  "  I  want  you  to  get  me  now,  right  away,  a 
nice  little  supper  of  chickens  and  oysters  and  a  muffin 
— it's  for  a  lady  upstairs.  Be  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  execute  impossi- 
bilities for  you,  Miss  Johns,  but  Mrs.  Custers  is  at 
the  table  herself." 

"  Very  well — that's  nothing — she'll  think  it's  for 
somebody  upstairs — and  so  it  is." 

"  Ay,  but  the  upstairs  people  is  Tim's  business — 
I  should  be  hauled  over  the  coals  directly." 

"  Then  ask  Tim,  will  you  ?  How  slow  you  are  ! 
Now,  James,  if  you  don't,  I  won't  speak  to  you 
again." 

"  Till  to-morrow  ?— I  couldn't  stand  that.  It  shall 
be  done,  Miss  Johns,  instantum." 

Bowing  and  smiling,  away  went  James,  leaving 
the  girls  giggling  on  the  staircase  and  highly 
gratified. 

"  He  always  does  what  I  want  him  to,"  said  the 
good-humored  chambermaid,  "  but  he  generally 
makes  a  fuss  about  it  first.  He'll  be  back  directly 
with  what  you  want." 

Till  he  came,  Miss  Timmins  filled  up  the  time 
with  telling  her  new  friend  as  much  as  she  knew 
about  Ellen  and  Ellen's  hardships ;  with  which 
Miss  Johns  was  so  much  interested  that  she  de 
clared  she  must  go  up  and  see  her ;  and  when 
James  in  a  few  minutes  returned  with  a  tray  of  nice 
things,  the  two  wom^n  proceeded  together  to  Mrs. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  13I 

Dunscombe's  room.  Ellen  had  moved  so  far  as  to 
put  herself  on  the  floor  with  her  head  on  the  cush- 
ion for  a  pillow,  but  she  was  as  sound  asleep  as 
ever. 

"  Just  see  now !  "  said  Timmins  ;  "  there  she  lies 
on  the  floor — enough  to  give  her  her  death  of  cold ; 
poor  child,  she  is  tired  to  death  3  and  Mrs.  Duns- 
combe  made  her  walk  up  from  the  steamboat  to- 
night rather  than  do  it  herself  ; — I  declare  I  wished 
the  coach  would  break  down,  only  for  the  other 
folks.  I  am  glad  I  have  got  a  good  supper  for  her 
though, — thank  you,  Miss  Johns." 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll  go  and  get  you  some 
nice  hot  tea,"  said  the  chambermaid,  who  was  quite 
touched  by  the  sight  of  Ellen's  little  pale  face. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Timmins, — "  you're  a  darling. 
This  is  as  cold  as  a  stone." 

While  the  chambermaid  went  forth  on  her  kind 
errand,  Timmins  stooped  down  by  the  little  sleeper's 
side.  "  Miss  Ellen  !  "  she  said  ; — "  Miss  Ellen  !— 
wake  up,  dear — wake  up  and  get  some  supper — - 
come  ! .  you'll  feel  a  great  deal  better  for  it — you 
shall  sleep  as  much  as  you  like  afterwards." 

Slowly  Ellen  raised  herself  and  opened  her  eyes. 
"  Where  am  I  ? "  she  asked,  looking  bewildered. 

"  Here,  dear,"  said  Timmins; — "wake  up  and 
eat  something — it  will  do  you  good." 

With  a  sigh,  poor  Ellen  arose  and  came  to  the 
fire.  "  You're  tired  to  death,  ain't  you  ?  "  said 
Timmins. 

"  Not  quite,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  shouldn't  mind 
that  if  my  legs  would  not  ache  so — and  my  head, 
too." 

"Now  I'm  sorry!"   said  Timmins;   "but  youf 


t$2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

head  will  be  better  for  eating,  I  know.  See  here 
- — I've  got  you  some  nice  chicken  and  oysters, — 
and  I'll  make  this  muffin  hot  for  you  by  the  fire ; 
and  here  comes  your  tea.  Miss  Johns,  I'm  your 
servant  and  I'll  be  your  bridesmaid  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  life.  Now,  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  just  you 
put  yourself  on  that  low  chair,  and  I'll  fix  you  off." 

Ellen  thanked  her,  and  did  as  she  was  told. 
Timmins  brought  another  chair  to  her  side,  and 
placed  the  tray  with  her  supper  upon  it,  and  pre- 
pared her  muffin  and  tea  ;  and  having  fairly  seen 
Ellen  begin  to  eat,  she  next  took  off  her  shoes,  and 
seating  herself  on  the  carpet  before  her,  she  made 
her  lap  the  resting-place  for  Ellen's  feet,  chafing 
them  in  her  hands  and  heating  them  at  the  fire ; 
saying  there  was  nothing  like  rubbing  and  roasting 
to  get  rid  of  the  leg-ache.  By  the  help  of  the 
supper,  the  fire,  and  Timmins,  Ellen  mended  rapidly. 
With  tears  in  her  eyes,  she  thanked  the  latter  for 
her  kindness. 

"  Now  just  don't  say  one  word  about  that,"  said 
Timmins ;  "  I  never  was  famous  for  kindness,  as  I 
know ;  but  people  must  be  kind  sometimes  in  their 
lives, — unless  they  happen  to  be  made  of  stone, 
which  I  believe  some  people  are.  You  feel  better, 
don't  you  ? " 

"  A  great  deal,"  said  Ellen.  "  Oh,  if  I  only  could 
go  to  bed,  now  !  " 

"  And  you  shall,"  said  Timmins.  "  I  know  about 
your  bed,  and  I'll  go  right  away  and  have  it  brought 
in."     And  away  she  went. 

While  she  was  gone,  Ellen  drew  from  her  pocket 
her  little  hymn-book,  to  refresh  herself  with  look- 
ing at  it.     How  quickly  and  freshly  it  brought  back 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  133 

to  her  mind  the  friend  who  had  given  it,  and  his 
conversations  with  her,  and  the  resolve  she  had 
made;  and  again  Ellen's  whole  heart  offered  the 
prayer  she  had  repeated  many  times  that  day, — 

"  Open  my  heart,  Lord,  enter  in  : 
Slay  every  foe,  and  conquer  sin.'' 

Her  head  was  still  bent  upon  her  little  book 
when  Timmins entered.  Timmins  was  not  alone; 
Miss  Johns  and  a  little  cot  bedstead  came  in  with 
her.  The  latter  was  put  at  the  foot  of  Mrs/ Duns- 
combe's  bed,  and  speedily  made  up  by  the  chamber- 
maid, while  Timmins  undressed  Ellen;  and  very 
soon  all  the  sorrows  and  vexations  of  the  day  were 
forgotten  in  a  sound,  refreshing  sleep.  But  not  till 
she  had  removed  her  little  hymn-book  from  the 
pocket  of  her  frock  to  a  safe  station  under  her 
pillow;  it  was  with  her  hand  upon  it  that  Ellen 
went  to  sleep;  and  it  was  in  her  hand  still  when 
she  was  waked  the  next  morning. 

The  next  day  was  spent  in  a  wearisome  stage- 
coach, over  a  rough,  jolting  road.  Ellen's  compan- 
ions did  nothing  to  make  her  way  pleasant,  but  she 
sweetened  theirs  with  her  sugar-plums.  Somewhat 
mollified,  perhaps,  after  that,  Miss  Margaret  con- 
descended to  enter  into  conversation  with  her,  and 
Ellen  underwent  a  thorough  cross-examination  as 
to  all  her  own  and  her  parents'  affairs,  past,  pres- 
ent, and  future,  and  likewise  as  to  all  that  could 
be  known  of  her  yesterday's  friend,  t?'1  she  was 
heartily  worried  and  out  of  patience. 

It  was  just  five  o'clock  when  they  reached  her 
stopping-place.  Ellen  knew  of  no  particular  house 
to  go  to;  so  Mrs.  Dunscombe  set  her  down  at  the 


134  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

door  of  the  principal  inn  of  the   town,   called  the 
"  Star  "  of  Thirlwall. 

The  driver  smacked  his  whip,  and  away  went  the 
stage  again,  and  she  was  left  standing  alone,  beside 
her  trunk,  before  the  piazza  of  the  inn,  watching 
Timmins,  who  was  looking  back  at  her  out  of  the 
stage  window,  nodding  and  waving  good-bye. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Gadsby. — Sirrah  carrier,  what  time  do  you  mean  to  come  to  London  ! 
zd.  Car. — Time  enough  to  go  to  bed  with  a  candle,  I  warrant  thee. 

King  Henry  IV. 

Ellen  had  been  whirled  along  over  the  roads 
for  so  many  hours, — the  rattle  of  the  stage-coach 
had  filled  her  ears  for  so  long, — that  now,  suddenly 
still  and  quiet,  she  felt  half  stunned.  She  stood 
with  a  kind  of  dreamy  feeling,  looking  after  the 
departing  stage-coach.  In  it  there  were  three 
people  whose  faces  she  knew,  and  she  could  not 
count  a  fourth  within  many  a  mile.  One  of  those 
was  a  friend,  too,  as  the  fluttering  handkerchief  of 
poor  Miss  Timmins  gave  token  still.  Yet  Ellen  did 
not  wish  herself  back  in  the  coach,  although  she 
continued  to  stand  and  gaze  after  it  as  it  rattled 
off  at  a  great  rate  down  the  little  street,  its  huge 
body  lumbering  up  and  down  every  now  and  then, 
reminding  her  of  sundry  uncomfortable  jolts  ;  till 
the  horses  making  a  sudden  turn  to  the  right,  it  dis- 
appeared round  a  corner.  Still  for  a  minute  Ellen 
watched  the  whirling  cloud  of  dust  it  had  left  be- 
hind ;  but  then  the  feeling  of  strangeness  and  lone- 
liness came  over  her,  and  her  heart  sank.  She  cast 
a  look  up  and  down  the  street.  The  afternoon 
*as  lovely  ;  the  slant  beams  of  the  setting  sun  came 


; 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  135 

back  from  gilded  windows,  and  the  houses  and 
chimney-tops  of  the  little  town  were  in  a  glow  ;  but 
she  saw  nothing  bright  anywhere  ; — in  all  the  glory 
of  the  setting  sun  the  little  town  looked  strange 
and  miserable.  There  was  no  sign  of  her  having 
been  expected  ;  nobody  was  waiting  to  meet  her. 
What  was  to  be  done  next  ?  Ellen  had  not  the 
slightest  idea. 

Her  heart  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  she  turned 
again  to  the  inn.  A  tall,  awkward  young  country- 
man, with  a  cap  set.  on  one  side  of  his  head,  was 
busying  himself  with  sweeping  off  the  floor  of  the 
piazza,  but  in  a  very  leisurely  manner  ;  and  between 
every  two  strokes  of  his  broom  he  was  casting  long 
looks  at  Ellen,  evidently  wondering  who  she  was 
and  what  she  could  want  there.  Ellen  saw  it,  and 
hoped  he  would  ask  her  in  words,  for  she  could  not 
answer  his  looks  of  curiosity, — but  she  was  disap- 
pointed. As  he  reached  the  end  of  the  piazza  and 
gave  his  broom  two  or  three  knocks  against  the 
edge  of  the  boards  to  clear  it  of  dust,  he  indulged 
himself  with  one  good  long  finishing  look  at  Ellen, 
and  then  she  saw  he  was  going  to  take  himself  and 
his  broom  into  the  house.  So  in  despair  she  ran 
up  the  two  or  three  low  steps  of  the  piazza  and 
presented  herself  before  him.     He  stopped  short. 

"  Will  you  please  to  tell  me,  sir,"  said  poor  Ellen, 
"  if  Miss  Emerson  is  here  ? " 

"  Miss  Emerson  ?  "  said  he, — "  what  Miss  Emer- 
son ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir, — Miss  Emerson  that  lives  not 
far  from  Thirlwall." 

Eying  Ellen  from  head  to  foot,  the  man  then 
trailed  his  broom  into  the  house.   Ellen  followed  him. 


136  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Mr.  Forbes  !  "  said  he, — "  Mr.  Forbes  !  do  you 
know  anything  of  Miss  Emerson  ? " 

"  What  Miss  Emerson  ? "  said  another  man,  with 
a  big  red  face  and  a  big  round  body,  showing  him- 
self in  a  doorway  which  he  nearly  filled. 

"  Miss  Emerson  that  lives  a  little  way  out  of 
town." 

"  Miss  Fortune  Emerson  ?  yes,  I  know  her. 
What  of  her  ?  " 

"  Has  she  been  here  to-day  ?  " 

"  Here  ?  what,  in  town  ?  No — not  as  I've  seen 
or  heerd.     Why,  who  wants  her  ?  " 

"  This  little  girl." 

And  the  man  with  the  broom,  stepping  back,  dis- 
closed Ellen  to  the  view  of  the  red-faced  landlord. 
He  advanced  a  step  or  two  towards  her. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  Miss  Fortune,  little 
one  ? "  said  he. 

"  I  expected  she  would  meet  me  here,  sir,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Where  have  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  New  York." 

"  The  stage  set  her  down  just  now,"  put  in  the 
other  man. 

"  And  you  thought  Miss  Fortune  would  meet 
you,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  she  was  to  meet  me  and  take  me 
home." 

"  Take  you  home  !  Are  you  going  to  Miss 
Fortune's  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.'' 

"  Why,  you  don't  belong  to  her  anyway,  do 
you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  "  but  she's  my  aunt." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  137 

9  She's  your  what  ?  " 

"  My  aunt,  sir, — my  father's  sister." 

"  Your  father's  sister  !  You  ben't  the  daughter 
of  Morgan  Montgomery,  be  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Ellen,  half-smiling. 

"And  you  are  come  to  make  a  visit  to  Miss 
Fortune,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  no  longer. 

"  And  Miss  Fortune  ha'n't  come  up  to  meet  you  ; 
— that's  real  shabby  of  her ;  and  how  to  get  you 
down  there  to-night,  I  am  sure  is  more  than  I  can 
tell."— And  he  shouted,  "  Wife  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Forbes  ?  "  said  a  fat 
landlady,  appearing  in  the  doorway,  which  she 
filled  near  as  well  as  her  husband  would  have  done. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Forbes,  "  here's  Morgan 
Montgomery's  daughter  come  to  pay  a  visit  to  her 
aunt,  Fortune  Emerson.  Don't  you  think  she'll  be 
glad  to  see  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Forbes  put  this  question  with  rather  a 
curious  look  at  his  wife.  She  didn't  answer  him. 
She  only  looked  at  Ellen,  looked  grave,  and  gave  a 
queer  little  nod  of  her  head,  which  meant,  Ellen 
could  not  make  out  what. 

"  Now,  what's  to  be  done  ? "  continued  Mr. 
Forbes.  "  Miss  Fortune  was  to  have  come  up  to 
meet  her,  but  she  ain't  here,  and  I  don't  know  how 
in  the  world  I  can  take  the  child  down  there  to- 
night. The  horses  are  both  out  to  plough,  you 
know  ;  and  besides,  the  tire  is  come  off  that  wagon 
wheel.  I  couldn't  possibly  use  it.  And  then  it's  a 
great  question  in  my  mind  what  Miss  Fortune 
would  say  to  me.     I  should  get  paid,  I  s'pose  ? " 

"Yes,    you'd    get    paid,"    said    his   wife,    with 


138  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

another  little  shake  of  her  head ,  "  but  whether 
it  would  be  the  kind  of  pay  you'd  like,  /  don't 
know." 

"  Well,  what's  to  be  done,  wife  ?  Keep  the 
child  over  night,  and  send  word  down  yonder  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes,  "  I'll  tell  you.  I  think  I 
saw  Van  Brunt  go  by  two  or  three  hours  ago  with 
the  ox-cart,  and  I  guess  he's  somewhere  up  town 
yet ;  I  ha'n't  seen  him  go  back.  He  can  take  the 
child  home  with  him.  Sam  !  "  shouted  Mrs. 
Forbes, — "  Sam  ! — here  ! — Sam,  run  up  street  di- 
rectly, and  see  if  you  see  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  ox- 
cart standing  anywhere — I  dare  say  he's  at  Mr. 
Miller's,  or  maybe  at  Mr.  Hammersley's,  the  black- 
smith— and  ask  him  to  stop  here  before  he  goes 
home.  Now  hurry  ! — and  don't  run  over  him,  and 
then  come  back  and  tell  me  he  ain't  in  town." 

Mrs.  Forbes  herself  followed  Sam  to  the  door, 
and  cast  an  exploring  look  in  every  direction. 

"  I  don't  see  no  signs  of  him, — up  nor  down," 
said  she,  returning  to  Ellen  ;  "  but  I'm  pretty  sure 
he  ain't  gone  home.  Come  in  here — come  in  here, 
dear,  and  make  yourself  comfortable ;  it'll  be  a 
while  yet  maybe  afore  Mr.  Van  Brunt  comes,  but 
he'll  be  along  by  and  by ; — come  in  here  and  rest 
yourself." 

She  opened  a  door,  and  Ellen  followed  her  into 
a  large  kitchen,  where  a  fire  was  burning  that 
showed  wood  must  be  plenty  in  those  regions. 
Mrs.  Forbes  placed  a  low  chair  for  her  on  the 
hearth,  but  herself  remained  standing  by  the  side 
of  the  fire,  looking  earnestly  and  with  a  good  deal 
of  interest  upon  the  little  stranger.  Ellen  drew  her 
white  bonnet  from  her  head,  and  sitting  down  with 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  139 

a  wearied  air,  gazed  sadly  into  the  flames  that  were 
shedding  their  light  upon  her. 

"  Are  you  going  to  stop  a  good  while  with  Miss 
Fortune  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Forbes. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am, — yes,  I  believe  so,"  said 
Ellen,  faintly. 

"  Ha'n't  you  got  no  mother  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Forbes,  suddenly,  after  a  pause. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Ellen,  looking  up.  But  the 
question  had  touched  the  sore  spot.  Her  head 
sank  on  her  hands,  and  "  Oh,  mamma ! "  was 
uttered  with  a  bitterness  that  even  Mrs.  Forbes 
could  feel. 

"  Now  what  made  me  ask  you  that  ?  "  said  she. 
*  Don't  cry ! — don't,  love  ;  poor  little  dear  !  you're 
as  pale  as  a  sheet ;  you're  tired,  I  know — ain't 
you  ?  Now  cheer  up,  do, — I  can't  bear  to  see  you 
cry.  You've  come  a  great  ways  to-day,  ha'n't  you  ?  " 

Ellen  nodded  her  head,  but  could  give  no 
answer. 

"  I  know  what  will  do  you  good,"  said  Mrs. 
Forbes,  presently,  getting  up  from  the  crouching 
posture  she  had  taken  to  comfort  Ellen;  "you 
want  something  to  eat, — that's  the  matter.  I'll 
warrant  you're  half-starved  ; — no  wonder  you  feel 
bad.  Poor  little  thing  !  you  shall  have  something 
good,  directly." 

And  away  she  bustled  to  get  it.  Left  alone, 
Ellen's  tears  flowed  a  few  minutes  very  fast.  She 
felt  forlorn  ■  and  she  was  besides,  as  Mrs.  Forbes 
opined,  both  tired  and  faint.  But  she  did  not  wish 
to  be  found  weeping;  she  checked  her  tears,  and 
was  sitting  again  quietly  before  the  fire  when  the 
landlady  returned. 


140  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Mrs.  Forbes  had  a  great  bowl  of  milk  in  one 
hand,  and  a  plate  of  bread  in  the  other,  which  she 
placed  on  the  kitchen  table,  and  setting  a  chair, 
called  Ellen  to  come  and  partake  of  it. 

"  Come,  dear, — here  is  something  that  will  do 
you  good.  I  thought  there  was  a  piece  of  pie  in  the 
buttery,  and  so  there  was,  but  Mr.  Forbes  must 
have  got  hold  of  it,  for  it  ain't  there  now  ;  and 
there  ain't  a  bit  of  cake  in  the  house  for  you  ;  but  I 
thought  maybe  you  would  like  this  as  well  as  any- 
thing.    Come  !  " 

Ellen  thanked  her,  but  said  she  did  not  want  any- 
thing. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes,  "I 
know  better.  You're  as  pale  as  I  don't  know  what. 
Come  !  this'll  put  roses  in  your  cheeks.  Don't  you 
like  bread  and  milk  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  much  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, 
"but  I'm  not  hungry."  She  rose,  however,  and 
came  to  the  table. 

"  Oh,  well,  try  to  eat  a  bit,  just  to  please  me. 
It's  real  good  country  milk — not  a  bit  of  cream  off. 
You  don't  get  such  milk  as  that  in  the  city,  I 
guess.  That's  right ! — I  see  the  roses  coming 
back  to  your  cheeks  already. — Is  your  pa  in  New 
York  now  ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  You  expect  your  pa  and  ma  up  to  Thirlwall  by 
and  by,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Forbes  was  surprised,  and  longed  to  ask 
why  not,  and  what  Ellen  had  come  for ;  but  the 
shade  that  had  passed  over  her  face  as  she  an- 
swered the  last  question  warned  the  landlady  she 
was  getting  upon  dangerous  ground. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  141 

"  Does  your  aunt  expect  you  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  ma'am, — I  don't  know, — she  was 
to  have  met  me ;  papa  said  he  would  write." 

"  Oh,  well !  maybe  something  hindered  her  from 
coming.  It's  no  matter ;  you'll  get  home  just  as 
well.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  will  be  here  soon,  I  guess  ; 
it's  most  time  for  him  to  be  along." 

She  went  to  the  front  door  to  look  out  for  him, 
but  returned  without  any  news.  A  few  minutes 
passed  in  silence,  for  though  full  of  curiosity,  the 
good  landlady  dared  not  ask  what  she  wanted  to 
know,  for  fear  of  again  exciting  the  sorrow  of  her 
little  companion.  She  contented  herself  with  look- 
ing at  Ellen,  who  on  her  part,  much  rested  and 
refreshed,  had  turned  from  the  table  and  was 
again,  though  somewhat  less  sadly,  gazing  into  the 
fire. 

Presently  the  great  wooden  clock  struck  half- 
past  five,  with  a  whirling  rickety  voice,  for  all  the 
world  like  a  hoarse  grasshopper.  Ellen  at  first 
wondered  where  it  came  from,  and  was  looking  at 
the  clumsy  machine  that  reached  nearly  from  the 
floor  of  the  kitchen  to  the  ceiling,  when  a  door  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  "  Good-day, 
Mrs.  Forbes,"  in  a  rough  but  not  unpleasant  voice, 
brought  her  head  quickly  round  in  that  direction. 
There  stood  a  large  strong-built  man,  with  an  ox- 
whip  in  his  hand.  He  was  well  made  and  rather 
handsome,  but  there  was  something  of  heaviness  in 
the  air  of  both  face  and  person  mixed  with  his  cer- 
tainly good-humored  expression.  His  dress  was  as 
rough  as  his  voice — a  coarse  gray  frock-coat,  green 
velveteen  pantaloons,  and  a  fur  cap  that  had  seen 
its  best  days  some  time  ago. 


142  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Good-day,  Mrs.  Forbes,"  said  this  personage  ; 
"  Sam  said  you  wanted  me  to  stop  as  I  went 
along." 

"  Ah,  how  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? "  said  the 
landlady,  rising ; — "  you've  got  the  ox-cart  here 
with  you,  ha'n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes, — I've  got  the  ox-cart,"  said  the  person 
addressed, — "  I  came  in  town  for  a  barrel  of  flour  ; 
and  then  the  near  ox  had  lost  both  his  fore-shoes 
off,  and  I  had  to  go  over  there ;  and  Hammersley 
has  kept  me  a  precious  long  time.  What's  wanting, 
Mrs.  Forbes  ?     I  can't  stop." 

"  You've  no  load  in  the  cart,  have  you  ?  "  said 
the  landlady, 

"  No ;  I  should  have  had  though,  but  Miller  had  no 
shorts  nor  fresh  flour,  nor  won't  till  next  week. 
What's  to  go  down,  Mrs.  Forbes  ?  " 

u  The  nicest  load  ever  you  carried,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt.  Here's  a  little  lady  come  to  stay  with  Miss 
Fortune.  She's  a  daughter  of  Captain  Montgomery. 
Miss  Fortune's  brother,  you  know.  She  came  by 
the  stage  a  little  while  ago,  and  the  thing  is  how  to 
get  her  down  to-night.  She  can  go  in  the  cart, 
can't  she  ?  " 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  a  little  doubtful,  and  pull- 
ing off  his  cap  with  one  hand,  while  he  scratched  his 
head  with  the  other,  he  examined  Ellen  from  head 
tc  foot ;  much  as  if  she  had  been  some  great  bale 
of  goods,  and  he  were  considering  whether  his  cart 
"would  hold  her  or  not. 

*l  Well,"  said  he  at  length, — "  I  don't  know  but 
she  can ;  but  there  ain't  nothing  on  'arth  for  her  to 
sit  down  upon." 

"  Oh,    never   mind ;    I'll    fix   that,"     said    Mrs. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  I43 

Forbes.     "Is  there  any  straw  in  the  bottom  of  the 

cart  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit." 

"  Well,  I'll  fix  it,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes.  "  You  get 
her  trunk  into  the  cart,  will  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  2 
and  I'll  see  to  the  rest." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  moved  off  without  another  word 
to  do  what  was  desired  of  him, — apparently  quite 
confounded  at  having  a  passenger  instead  of  his 
more  wonted  load  of  bags  and  barrels.  And  his 
face  still  continued  to  wear  the  singular  doubtful  ex« 
pression  it  had  put  on  at  first  hearing  the  news. 
Ellen's  trunk  was  quickly  hoisted  in,  however  ;  and 
Mrs.  Forbes  presently  appeared  with  a  little  arm- 
chair, which  Mr.  Van  Brunt  with  an  approving 
look  bestowed  in  the  cart,  planting  it  with  its  back 
against  the  trunk  to  keep  it  steady.  Mrs.  Forbes 
then  raising  herself  on  tiptoe  by  the  side  of  the  cart, 
took  a  view  of  the  arrangements. 

"  That  won't  do  yet,"  said  she  ;  "  her  feet  will 
be  cold  on  that  bare  floor,  and  'tain't  over  clean 
neither.  Here,  Sally !  run  up  and  fetch  me  that 
piece  of  carpet  you'll  find  lying  at  the  top  of  the 
back  stairs.  Now,  hurry  ! — Now,  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
I  depend  upon  you  to  get  my  things  back  again  ; 
will  you  see  and  bring  'em  the  first  time  you  come 
in  town  ?  " 

"  I'll  see  about  it.  But  what  if  I  can't  get  hold 
of  them  ?  "  answered  the  person  addressed,  with  a 
half  smile. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes,  with  another,  "  I  leave 
that  to  you  ;  you  have  your  ways  and  means.  Now, 
just  spread  this  carpet  down  nicely  under  her  chair ; 
and  then  she'll  be  fixed.     Now,  my  darling  you'tf 


144  THE   WIDE..  WIDE   WORLD. 

ride  like  a  queen.  But  how  are  you  going  to  get 
in  ?     Will  you  let  Mr.  Van  Brunt  lift  you  up  ?  " 

Ellen's  "  Oh,  no,  ma'am,  if  you  please !  "  was 
accompanied  with  such  an  evident  shrinking  from 
the  proposal,  that  Mrs.  Forbes  did  not  press  it. 
A  chair  was  brought  from  the  kitchen,  and  by 
making  a  long  step  from  it  to  the  top  of  the  wheel, 
and  then  to  the  edge  of  the  cart,  Ellen  was  at 
length  safely  stowed  in  her  place.  Kind  Mrs. 
Forbes  then  stretched  herself  up  over  the  side  of 
the  cart  to  shake  hands  with  her  and  bid  her  good- 
bye, telling  her  again  she  would  ride  like  a  queen. 
Ellen  answered  only  "  Good-bye,  ma'-am ; "  but 
it  was  said  with  a  look  of  so  much  sweetness, 
and  eyes  swimming  half  in  sadness  and  half  in 
gratefulness,  that  the  good  landlady  could  not 
forget  it. 

"I  do  think,"  said  she,  when  she  went  back  to 
her  husband,  "  that  is  the  dearest  little  thing,  about, 
I  ever  did  see." 

"  Humph !  "  said  her  husband,  "  I  reckon  Miss 
Fortune  will  think  so  too." 

The  doubtful  look  came  back  to  Mrs.  Forbes, 
face,  and  with  another  little  grave  shake  of  her 
head,  she  went  into  the  kitchen. 

"  How  kind  she  is !  how  good  everybody  is  to 
me  !  "  thought  little  Ellen,  as  she  moved  off  in 
state  in  her  chariot  drawn  by  oxen.  Quite  a  con- 
trast this  new  way  of  traveling  was  to  the  noisy  stage 
and  swift  steamer.  Ellen  did  net  know  at  first 
whether  to  like  or  dislike  it ;  but  she  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  very  funny,  and  a  remark- 
ably amusing  way  of  getting  along.  There  was 
one  disadvantage  about  it  certainly — their  rate  oi 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  i.^ 

travel  was  very  slow.  Ellen  wondered  her  char- 
ioteer did  not  make  his  animals  go  faster ;  but  she 
soon  forgot  their  lazy  progress  in  the  interest  of 
novel  sights  and  new  scenes. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  good  oxen  drew  the  cart 
and  the  little  queen  in  the  arm-chair  out  of  the 
town,  and  they  entered  upon  the  open  country. 
The  sun  had  already  gone  down  when  they  left  the 
inn,  and  the  glow  of  his  setting  had  faded  a  good 
deal  by  the  time  they  got  quite  out  of  the  town ; 
but  light  enough  was  left  still  to  delight  Ellen  with 
the  pleasant  look  of  the  country.  It  was  a  lovely 
evening,  and  quiet  as  summer ;  not  a  breath  stir- 
ring. The  leaves  were  all  off  the  trees  ;  the  hills 
were  brown ;  but  the  soft  warm  light  that  still  lin- 
gered upon  them  forbade  any  look  of  harshness 
or  dreariness.  These  hills  lay  towards  the 
west,  and  at  Thirlwall  were  not  more  than  two 
miles  distant,  but  sloping  off  more  to  the  west  as 
the  range  extended  in  a  southerly  direction.  Be- 
tween, the  ground  was  beautifully  broken.  Rich 
fields  and  meadows  lay  on  all  sides,  sometimes 
level,  and  sometimes  with  a  soft  wavy  surface, 
where  Ellen  thought  it  must  be  charming  to  run  up 
and  down.  Every  now  and  then  these  were  varied 
by  a  little  rising  ground  capped  with  a  piece  of 
woodland  ;  and  beautiful  trees,  many  of  them  were 
seen  standing  alone,  especially  by  the  road-side. 
All  had  a  cheerful,  pleasant  look.  The  houses 
were  very  scattered  ;  in  the  whole  way  they  passed 
but  few.  Ellen's  heart  regularly  began  to  beat 
when  they  came  in  sight  of  one,  and  "  I  wonder 
if  that  is  Aunt  Fortune's  house  !  " — "  Perhaps  it 
is  !  " — or,  "  I  hope  it  is  not !  "  were  the  thoughts 
to 


146  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

chat  rose  in  her  mind.  But  slowly  the  oxen  brought 
her  abreast  of  the  houses,  one  after  another,  and 
slowly  they  passed  on  beyond,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  getting  home  yet.  Their  way  was  through 
pleasant  lanes  towards  the  south,  but  constantly 
approaching  the  hills.  About  half  a  mile  from 
Thirl  wall,  they  crossed  a  little  river,  not  more  than 
thirty  yards  broad,  and  after  that  the  twilight 
deepened  fast.  The  shades  gathered  on  field  and 
hill  ;  everything  grew  brown,  and  then  dusky  ;  and 
then  Ellen  was  obliged  to  content  herself  with 
what  was  very  near,  for  further  than  that  she  could 
only  see  dim  outlines.  She  began  again  to  think 
of  their  slow  traveling,  and  to  wonder  that  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  could  be  content  with  it.  She  wondered, 
too,  what  made  him  walk,  when  he  might  just  as 
well  have  sat  in  the  cart ;  the  truth  was  he  had 
chosen  that  for  the  very  purpose  that  he  might 
have  a  good  look  at  the  little  queen  in  the  arm- 
chair. Apparently,  however,  he  too  now  thought 
it  might  be  as  well  to  make  a  little  haste,  for  he 
thundered  out  some  orders  to  his  oxen,  accompa- 
nied with  two  or  three  strokes  of  his  heavy  lash, 
which,  though  not  cruel  by  any  means,  went  to 
Ellen's  heart. 

"  Them  lazy  critters  won't  go  fast  anyhow,"  said 
he  to  Ellen, — "  they  will  take  their  own  time  ;  it 
ain't  no  use  to  cut  them." 

"  Oh,  no  !  pray  don't,  if  you  please  !  '"  said  Ellen 
in  a  voice  of  earnest  entreaty. 

"  'Tain't  fair  neither,"  continued  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
lashing  his  great  whip  from  side  to  side  without 
touching  anything.  "  I  have  seen  critters  that 
would  take  any  quantity  of  whipping  to  make  them 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  147 

go,  but  them  'ere  ain't  of  that  kind  ;  they'll  work  as 
long  as  they  can  stand,  poor  fellows !  " 

There  was  a  little  silence,  during  which  Ellen 
eyed  her  rough  charioteer,  not  knowing  exactly  what 
to  make  of  him. 

"  I  guess  this  is  the  first  time  you  ever  rid  in  an 
ox-cart,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I  never  saw  one  before." 

"  Ha'n't  you  never  seen  an  ox-cart  ?  Well — how 
do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  like  it  very  much  indeed.  Have  we  much 
farther  to  go  before  we  get  to  Aunt  Fortune's 
house  ? " 

"  'Aunt  Fortune's  house  ? ' — a  pretty  good  bit  yet. 
You  see  that  mountain  over  there  ?  " — pointing  with 
his  whip  to  a  hill  directly  west  of  them,  and  about 
a  mile  distant. 

"Yes,"  said  Ellen. 

"  That's  the  Nose.  Then  you  see  that  other  ?  " 
— pointing  to  one  that  lay  some  two  miles  further 
south  ; — "  Miss  Fortune's  house  is  just  this  side  of 
that ;  it's  all  of  two  miles  from  here." 

And  urged  by  this  recollection,  he  again  scolded 
and  cheered  the  patient  oxen,  who  for  the  most  part 
kept  on  their  steady  way  without  any  reminder. 
But  perhaps  it  was  for  Ellen's  sake  that  he  scarcely 
touched  them  with  the  whip. 

"  That  don't  hurt  them,  not  a  bit,"  he  remarked 
to  Ellen, — "  it  only  lets  them  know  that  I'm  here, 
and  they  must  mind  their  business.  So  you're  Miss 
Fortune's  niece,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen. 

'  Well,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  with  a  desperate 
attempt  at  being  complimentary,  "  I  shouldn't  care 
if  you  was  mine  too." 


I48  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  was  somewhat  astounded,  and  so  utterly 
unable  to  echo  the  wish,  that  she  said  nothing. 
She  did  not  know  it,  but  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  made, 
for  him,  most  extraordinary  efforts  at  sociability. 
Having  quite  exhausted  himself,  he  now  mounted 
into  the  cart  and  sat  silent,  only  now  and  then  utter- 
ing energetic  "  Gee's  "  and  "  Haw's  !  "  which  greatly 
excited  Ellen's  wonderment.  She  discovered  they 
were  meant  for  the  ears  of  the  oxen,  but  more  than 
that  she  could  not  make  out. 

They  plodded  along  very  slowly,  and  the  evening 
fell  fast.  As  they  left  behind  the  hill  which  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  had  called  "the  Nose,"  they  could  see, 
through  an  opening  in  the  mountains,  a  bit  of  the 
western  horizon,  and  some  brightness  still  lingering 
there  ;  but  it  was  soon  hid  from  view,  and  darkness 
veiled  the  whole  country.  Ellen  could  amuse  her- 
self no  longer  with  looking  about ;  she  could  see 
nothing  very  clearly  but  the  outline  of  Mr.  Van 
Brunt's  broad  back,  just  before  her.  But  the  stars 
had  come  out ! — and,  brilliant  and  clear,  they  were 
looking  down  upon  her  with  their  thousand  eyes. 
Ellen's  heart  jumped  when  she  saw  them,  with  a 
mixed  feeling  of  pleasure  and  sadness.  They  car- 
ried her  right  back  to  the  last  evening  when  she  was 
walking  up  the  hill  with  Timmins  ;  she  remembered 
her  anger  against  Mrs.  Dunscombe,  and  her  kind 
friend's  warning  not  to  indulge  it,  and  all  his  teach- 
ing that  day ;  and  tears  came  with  the  thought, 
how  glad  she  should  be  to  hear  him  speak  to  her 
again.  Still  looking  up  at  the  beautiful  quiet  stars, 
she  thought  of  her  dear  far-off  mother, — how  long 
it  was  already  since  she  had  seen  her; — faster  and 
faster  the  tears  dropped ; — and  then  she  thought  of 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  149 

that  glorious  One  who  had  made  the  stars,  and  was 
above  them  all,  and  who  could  and  did  see  her 
mother  and  her,  though  ever  so  far  apart,  and  could 
hear  and  bless  them  both.  The  little  face  was  no 
longer  upturned — it  was  buried  in  her  hands,  and 
bowed  to  her  lap,  and  tears  streamed  as  she  prayed 
that  God  would  bless  her  dear  mother  and  take 
care  of  her.  Not  once  nor  twice  ; — the  fullness  of 
Ellen's  heart  could  not  be  poured  out  in  one  ask- 
ing. Greatly  comforted  at  last,  at  having  as  it 
were  laid  over  the  care  of  her  mother  upon  One 
who  was  able,  she  thought  of  herself,  and  her  late 
resolution  to  serve  Him.  She  was  in  the  same  mind 
still.  She  could  not  call  herself  a  Christian  yet, 
but  she  was  resolved  to  be  one  :  and  she  earnestly 
asked  the  Saviour  she  sought  to  make  her 
and  keep  her*  His  child.  And  then  Ellen  felt 
happy. 

Quiet,  and  weariness,  and  even  drowsmt^'  suc- 
ceeded. It  was  well  the  night  was  still,  for  it  had 
grown  quite  cool,  and  a  breeze  would  have  gone 
through  and  through  Ellen's  nankeen  coat.  As  it 
was  she  began  to  be  chilly,  when  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
who  since  he  got  into  the  cart  had  made  no  remarks 
except  to  his  oxen,  turned  round  a  little  and  spoke 
to  her  again. 

"  It's  only  a  little  bit  of  way  we've  got  to  go  now," 
said  he  ;  "  we're  turning  the  corner." 

The  words  seemed  to  shoot  through  Ellen's  heart. 
She  was  wide  awake  instantly,  and  quite  warm ; 
and  leaning  forward  in  her  little  chair,  she  strove 
to  pierce  the  darkness  on  either  hand  of  her,  to  see 
whereabouts  the  house  stood,  and  how  things  looked. 
She  could  discern  nothing  but  misty  shadows,  and 


150  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

outlines  of  she  could  not  tell  what  ;  the  starlight 
was  too  dim  to  reveal  anything  to  a  stranger. 

"  There's  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  aftei 
a  few  minutes  more, — "  do  you  see  it  yonder  ?  " 

Ellen  strained  her  eyes,  but  could  make  out 
nothing, — not  even  a  glimpse  of  white.  She  sat 
back  in  her  chair,  her  heart  beating  violently. 
Presently  Mr.  Van  Brunt  jumped  down  and  opened 
a  gate  at  the  side  of  the  road  ;  and  with  a  great 
deal  of  "  gee  "  -ing  the  oxen  turned  to  the  right, 
and  drew  the  cart  a  little  way  uphill, — then  stopped 
on  what  seemed  level  ground. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  cried  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  as  he 
threw  his  whip  on  the  ground, — "  and  late  enough  ! 
You  must  be  tired  of  that  little  arm-cheer  by  this 
time.  Come  to  the  side  of  the  cart  and  I'll  lift 
you  down." 

Poor  Ellen !  There  was  no  help  for  it.  She 
came  to  the  side  of  the  cart,  and  taking  her  in  his 
arms  her  rough  charioteer  set  her  very  gently  and 
carefully  on  the  ground. 

"  There  !  "  said  he,  "  now  you  can  run  right  in ; 
do  you  see  that  little  gate  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  can't  see  anything." 

"Well,  come  here,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  show 
you.  Here — you're  running  agin  the  fence — this 
way  !  " 

And  he  opened  a  little  wicket,  which  Ellen 
managed  to  stumble  through. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  go  straight  up  to  that  door 
yonder,  and  open  it,  and  you'll  see  where  to  go. 
Don't  knock,  but  just  pull  the  latch  and  go  in." 

And  he  went  off  to  his  oxen.  Ellen  at  first  saw 
no  door,  and  did  not  even  know  where  to  look  fol 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  151 

it;  by  degrees,  as  her  head  became  clearer,  the 
large  dark  shadow  of  the  house  stood  before  her, 
and  a  little  glimmering  line  of  a  path  seemed  to 
lead  onward  from  where  she  stood.  With  unsteady 
steps,  Ellen  pursued  it  till  her  foot  struck  against, 
the  stone  before  the  door.  Her  trembling  fingers 
found  the  latch — lifted  it — and  she  entered.  All 
was  dark  there ;  but  at  the  right  a  window  showed 
light  glimmering  within.  Ellen  made  toward  it, 
and  groping,  came  to  another  door-latch.  This 
was  big  and  clumsy ;  however,  she  managed  it, 
and  pushing  open  the  heavy  door,  went  in. 

It  was  a  good-sized,  cheerful-looking  kitchen. 
A  fine  fire  was  burning  in  the  enormous  fire-place  ; 
the  white  walls  and  ceiling  were  yellow  in  the  light 
of  the  flame.  No  candles  were  needed,  and  none 
were  there.  The  supper  table  was  set,  and  with 
its  snow-white  tablecloth  and  shining  furniture, 
looked  very  comfortable  indeed.  But  the  only 
person  there  was  an  old  woman,  sitting  by  the  side 
of  the  fire,  with  her  back  towards  Ellen.  She 
seemed  to  be  knitting,  but  did  not  move  nor  look 
round.  Ellen  had  come  a  step  or  two  into  the 
room,  and  there  she  stood,  unable  to  speak  or  to 
go  any  farther.  "Can  that  be  Aunt  Fortune?" 
she  thought;  "  she  can't  be  as  old  as  that  ?  " 

In  another  minute  a  door  opened  at  her  right, 
just  behind  the  old  woman's  back,  and  a  second 
figure  appeared  at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  stairs  which 
led  down  from  the  kitchen.  She  came  in,  shutting 
the  door  behind  her  with  her  foot ;  and  indeed 
both  hands  were  full,  one  holding  a  lamp  and  a 
knife,  and  the  other  a  plate  of  butter.  The  sight 
of  Ellen  stopped  her  short. 


152  THE   WIDE   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  What  is  this  ? — and  what  do  you  leave  the  doot 
open  for,  child?"  she  said. 

She  advanced  towards  it,  plate  and  lamp  in  hand, 
and  setting  her  back  against  the  door,  shut  it 
vigorously. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  and  what's  wanting  ?  " 

"  I  am  Ellen  Montgomery,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, 
timidly. 

"  What  ?  "  said  the  lady,  with  some  emphasis. 

"  Didn't  you  expect  me,  ma'am  ? "  said  Ellen  ; 
"  papa  said  he  would  write." 

"  Why,  is  this  Ellen  Montgomery  ? "  said  Miss 
Fortune,  apparently  forced  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  must  be. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen. 

Miss  Fortune  went  to  the  table  and  put  the 
butter  and  the  lamp  in  their  places. 

"  Did  you  say  your  father  wrote  to  tell  me  of 
your  coming  ? " 

"  He  said  he  would,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen. 

"  He  didn't !  Never  sent  me  a  line.  Just  like 
him  !  I  never  yet  knew  Morgan  Montgomery  do 
a  thing  when  he  promised  he  would." 

Ellen's  face  flushed,  and  her  heart  swelled.  She 
stood  motionless. 

"  How  did  you  get  down  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  came  in  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  ox-cart,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  ox-cart  ?  Then  he's  got  home, 
has  he  ?  "  And  hearing  at  this  instant  a  noise  out- 
side, Miss  Fortune  swept  to  the  door,  saying,  as 
she  opened  it,  "  Sit  down,  child,  and  take  off  your 
things." 

The  first  command,  at  least,  Ellen  obeyed  gladly ; 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  153 

she  did  not  feel  enough  at  home  to  comply  with 
the  second.     She  only  took  off  her  bonnet. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Miss  Fortune  at 
the  door,  "  have  you  brought  me  a  barrel  of  flour  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Fortune,"  said  the  voice  of  Ellen's 
charioteer,  "  I've  brought  you  something  better 
than  that." 

"  Where  did  you  find  her  ? "  said  Miss  Fortune, 
something  shortly. 

"  Up  at  Forbes's." 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  A  trunk.     Where  is  it  to  go  ?  " 

"  A  trunk  !  Bless  me  !  it  must  go  upstairs  ;  but 
how  it  is  ever  to  get  there,  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know." 

"  I'll  find  a  way  to  get  it  there,  I'll  engage,  if 
you'll  be  so  good  as  to  open  the  door  for  me, 
ma'am." 

"Indeed  you  won't!  That'll  never  do.  With 
your  shoes  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  in  a  tone  of  indig- 
nant housewifery. 

"Well — without  my  shoes,  then,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  with  a  half  giggle,  as  Ellen  heard  the  shoes 
kicked  off.  "  Now,  ma'am,  out  of  my  way !  give 
me  a  road." 

Miss  Fortune  seized  the  lamp,  and  opening 
another  door,  ushered  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  the  trunk 
out  of  the  kitchen,  and  up,  Ellen  saw  not  whither. 
In  a  minute  or  two  they  returned,  and  he  of  the 
ox-cart  went  out. 

"  Supper's  just  ready,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Can't  stay,  ma'am  ; — it's  so  late  ;  must  hurrj 
home."     And  he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 


^54  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  What  made  you  so  late  ?  "  asked  Miss  Fortune 
of  Ellen. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am — I  believe  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
said  the  blacksmith  had  kept  him." 

Miss  Fortune  bustled  about  a  few  minutes  in 
silence,  setting  some  things  on  the  table  and  filling 
the  tea-pot. 

"  Come,"  she  said  to  Ellen,  "take  off  your  coat 
and  come  to  the  table.  You  must  be  hungry  by 
this  time.  It's  a  good  while  since  you  had  your 
dinner,  ain't  it  ?     Come,  mother." 

The  old  lady  rose,  and  Miss  Fortune,  taking  her 
chair,  set  it  by  the  side  of  the  table  next  the  fire. 
Ellen  was  opposite  to  her,  and  now  for  the  first 
time  the  old  lady  seemed  to  know  that  she  was  in 
the  room.  She  looked  at  her  very  attentively,  but 
with  an  expressionless  gaze  which  Ellen  did  not 
like  to  meet,  though  otherwise  her  face  was  calm 
and  pleasant. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  inquired  the  old  lady  presently 
of  Miss  Fortune,  in  a  half  whisper. 

"  That's  Morgan's  daughter,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Morgan's  daughter  !     Has  Morgan  a  daughter  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  mother  ;  don't  you  remember  I  told 
you  a  month  ago  he  was  going  to  send  her  here  ?  " 

The  old  lady  turned  again  with  a  half  shake  of 
her  head  towards  Ellen.  "  Morgan's  daughter," 
she  repeated  to  herself  softly,  "  she's  a  pretty  little 
girl, — very  pretty.  Will  vou  come  round  here  and 
give  me  a  kiss,  dear  ?  " 

Ellen  submitted.  The  old  lady  folded  her  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  her  affectionately.  "  That's 
your  grandmother,  Ellen,"  said  Miss  Fortune  as 
Ellen  went  back  to  her  seat. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  155 

Ellen  had  no  words  to  answer.  Her  aunt  saw 
her  weary,  down  look,  and  soon  after  supper  pn> 
posed  to  take  her  upstairs.  Ellen  gladly  followed 
her.  Miss  Fortune  showed  her  to  her  room,  and 
first  asking  if  she  wanted  anything,  left  her  to  her- 
self. It  was  a  relief.  Ellen's  heart  had  been 
brimful  and  ready  to  run  over  for  some  time,  but 
the  tears  could  not  come  then.  They  did  not  now, 
till  she  had  undressed  and  laid  her  weary  little 
body  on  the  bed  ;  then  they  broke  forth  in  an  agony. 
"  She  did  not  kiss  me  ;  she  didn't  say  she  was 
glad  to  see  me  !  "  thought  poor  Ellen.  But  weari- 
ness this  time  was  too  much  for  sorrow  and  disap- 
pointment. It  was  but  a  few  minutes,  and  Ellen's 
brow  was  calm  again,  and  her  eyelids  still,  and  with 
the  tears  wet  upon  her  cheeks,  she  was  fast  asleep. 

CHAPTER  X. 

Nimble  mischance,  that  com'st  so  swift  of  foot ! 

Shakspeare. 

The  morning  sun  was  shining  full  and  strong  in 
Ellen's  eyes  when  she  awoke.  Bewildered  at  the 
strangeness  of  everything  round  her,  she  raised 
herself  on  her  elbow,  and  took  a  long  look  at  her 
new  home.  It  could  not  help  but  seem  cheerful. 
The  bright  beams  of  sunlight  streaming  in  through 
the  windows  lighted  on  the  wall  and  the  old  wains- 
coting ;  and  paintless  and  rough  as  they  were, 
nature's  own  gilding  more  than  made  amends  for 
their  want  of  comeliness.  Still  Ellen  was  not  much 
pleased  with  the  result  of  her  survey.  The  room 
was  good-sized,  and  perfectly  neat  and  clean  ;  it 
had  two  large  windows  opening  to  the  east,  through 


156  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

which,  morning  by  morning,  the  sun  looked  in,— 
that  was  another  blessing.  But  the  floor  was  with- 
out a  sign  of  a  carpet ;  and  the  bare  boards  looked 
to  Ellen  very  comfortless.  The  hard-finished  walls 
were  not  very  smooth,  nor  particularly  white.  The 
doors  and  wood-work,  though  very  neat,  and  even 
carved  with  some  attempt  at  ornament,  had  never 
known  the  touch  of  paint,  and  had  grown  in  the 
course  of  years  to  be  of  a  light  brown  color.  The 
room  was  very  bare  of  furniture  too.  A  dressing- 
table,  pier-table  or  what-not,  stood  between  the 
windows,  but  it  was  only  a  half-circular  top  of  pine 
board  set  upon  three  very  long  bare-looking  legs 
— altogether  of  a  most  awkward  and  unhappy  ap- 
pearance, Ellen  thought,  and  quite  too  high  for  her 
to  use  with  any  comfort.  No  glass  hung  over  it, 
nor  anywhere  else.  On  the  north  side  of  the  room 
was  a  fire-place ;  against  the  opposite  wall  stood 
Ellen's  trunk  and  two  chairs  ; — that  was  all,  except 
the  cot  bed  she  was  lying  on,  and  which  had  its 
place  opposite  the  windows.  The  coverlet  of  that 
ome  in  for  a  share  of  her  displeasure,  being  of  home- 
made white  and  blue  worsted  mixed  with  cotton, 
exceeding  thick  and  heavy. 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  blanket  is  under  it," 
said  Ellen,  "  if  I  can  ever  get  it  off  to  see  ! — pretty 
.good  ;  but  the  sheets  are  cotton,  and  so  is  the  pil- 
low-case ! " 

She  was  still  leaning  on  her  elbow,  looking  around 
her  with  a  rather  discontented  face,  when  some 
<loor  being  opened  Sownstairs,  a  great  noise  of  hiss- 
ing and  sputtering  came  to  her  ears,  and  presently 
after  there  stole  to  her  nostrils  a  steaming  odor  of 
something  very  savory  from  the  kitchen.     It  said  as 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  157 

plainly  as  a  dressing-bell  that  she  had  better  rise. 
So  up  she  jumped,  and  set  about  dressing  herself 
with  great  alacrity.  Where  was  the  distress  of  last 
night  ?  Gone — with  the  darkness.  She  had  slept 
well ;  the  bracing  atmosphere  had  restored  strength 
and  spirits ;  and  the  bright  morning  light  made  it 
impossible  to  be  dull  or  down-hearted,  in  spite  of 
the  new  cause  she  thought  she  had  found.  She 
went  on  quick  with  the  business  of  the  toilet.  But 
when  it  came  to  the  washing,  she  suddenly  discov- 
ered that  there  were  no  conveniences  for  it  in  her 
room — no  sign  of  pitcher  or  basin  or  stand  to  hold 
them.  Ellen  was  slightly  dismayed  ;  but  presently 
recollected  her  arrival  had  not  been  looked  for  so 
soon,  and  probably  the  preparations  for  it  had  not 
been  completed.  So  she  finished  dressing,  and 
then  set  out  to  find  her  way  to  the  kitchen.  On 
opening  the  door,  there  was  a  little  landing-place 
from  which  the  stairs  descended  just  in  front  of 
her,  and  at  the  left  hand  another  door,  which  she 
supposed  must  lead  to  her  aunt's  room.  At  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  Ellen  found  herself  in  a  large 
square  room  or  hall,  for  one  of  its  doors,  on  the 
east,  opened  to  the  outer  air,  and  was  in  fact  the 
front  door  of  the  house.  Another  Ellen  tried  on 
the  south  side  ;  it  would  not  open.  A  third,  under 
the  stairs,  admitted  her  to  the  kitchen. 

The  noise  of  hissing  and  sputtering  now  became 
quite  violent,  and  the  smell  of  the  cooking,  to  Ellen's 
fancy,  rather  too  strong  to  be  pleasant.  Before  a 
good  fire  stood  Miss  Fortune,  holding  the  end  of  a 
very  long  iron  handle  by  which  she  was  kept  in 
communication  with  a  flat  vessel  sitting  on  the  fire, 
in  which  Ellen  soon  discovered  all  this  noisy  and 


158  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

odorous  cooking  was  going  on.  A  tall  tin  coffee- 
pot stood  on  some  coals  in  the  corner  of  the  fire- 
place, and  another  little  iron  vessel  in  front  also 
claimed  a  share  of  Miss  Fortune's  attention,  for 
she  every  now  and  then  leaned  forward  to  give  a 
stir  to  whatever  was  in  it,  making  each  time  quite  a 
spasmodic  effort  to  do  so  without  quitting  her  hold 
of  the  end  of  the  long  handle.  Ellen  drew  near 
and  looked  on  with  great  curiosity,  and  not  a  little 
appetite ;  but  Miss  Fortune  was  far  too  busy  to  give 
her  more  than  a  passing  glance.  At  length  the 
hissing  pan  was  brought  to  the  hearth  for  some  new 
arrangement  of  its  contents,  and  Ellen  seized  the 
moment  of  peace  and  quiet  to  say,  "  Good-morn- 
ing, Aunt  Fortune." 

Miss  Fortune  was  crouching  by  the  pan  turning 
her  slices  of  pork.  "  How  do  you  do  this  morn- 
ing ? "  she  answered,  without  looking  up. 

Ellen  replied  she  felt  a  great  deal  better. 

"  Slept  warm,  did  you  ? "  said  Miss  Fortune,  as 
she  set  the  pan  back  on  the  fire.  And  Ellen  could 
hardly  answer,  "  Quite  warm,  ma'am,"  when  the 
hissing  and  sputtering  began  again  as  loud  as  ever. 

"  I  must  wait,"  thought  Ellen,  "  till  this  is  over 
before  I  say  what  I  want  to.  I  can't  scream  out  to 
ask  for  a  basin  and  towel." 

Tn  a  few  minutes  the  pan  was  removed  from  the 
fire,  and  Miss  Fortune  went  on  to  take  out  the 
brown  slices  of  nicely  fried  pork  and  arrange  them 
in  a  deep  dish,  leaving  a  small  quantity  of  clear  fat 
in  the  pan.  Ellen,  who  was  greatly  interested,  and 
observing  every  step  most  attentively,  settled  in  her 
own  mind  that  certainly  this  would  be  thrown  away, 
being  fit  for  nothing  but  the  pigs.     But  Miss  Fort* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  159 

line  didn't  think  so,  for  she  darted  into  some 
pantry  close  by,  and  returning  with  a  cup  of  cream 
in  her  hand,  emptied  it  all  into  the  pork  fat.  Then 
she  ran  into  the  pantry  again  for  a  little  round  tin 
box,  with  a  cover  full  of  holes,  and  shaking  this 
gently  over  the  pan,  a  fine  white  shower  of  flour  fell 
upon  the  cream.  The  pan  was  then  replaced  on 
the  fire  and  stirred  ;  and  to  Ellen's  astonishment 
the  whole  changed,  as  if  by  magic,  to  a  thick,  stiff, 
white  froth.  It  was  not  till  Miss  Fortune  was  care- 
fully pouring  this  over  the  fried  slices  in  the  dish, 
that  Ellen  suddenly  recollected  that  breakfast  was 
ready,  and  she  was  not. 

"  Aunt  Fortune,"  she  said,  timidly,  "  I  haven't 
washed  yet, — there's  no  basin  in  my  room." 

Miss  Fortune  made  no  answer  nor  gave  any  sign 
of  hearing  ;  she  went  on  dishing  up  breakfast. 
Ellen  waited  a  few  minutes. 

"Will  you  please,  ma'am,  to  show  me  where  I 
can  wash  myself  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  suddenly  standing 
erect,  "  you'll  have  to  go  down  to  the  spout." 

"The  spout,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  —  "what's 
that  ? " 

"  You'll  know  it  when  you  see  it,  I  guess,"  an- 
swered her  aunt,  again  stooping  over  her  prepara- 
tions. But  in  another  moment  she  arose  and  said, 
"  Just  open  that  door  there  behind  you,  and  go 
down  the  stairs  and  out  at  the  door,  and  you'll  see 
where  it  is,  and  what  it  is  too." 

Ellen  still  lingered.  "  Would  you  be  so  good  as 
to  give  me  a  towel,  ma'am  ? "  she  said,  timidly. 

Miss  Fortune  dashed  past  her  and  out  of  an- 
other door,  whence  she  presently  returned  with  a 


160  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

clean  towel,  which  she  threw  over  Ellen's  arm,  and 
then  went  back  to  her  work- 
Opening  the  door  by  which  she  had  first  seen 
her  aunt  enter  the  night  before,  Ellen  went  down  a 
steep  flight  of  steps,  and  found  herself  in  a  lower 
kitchen,  intended  for  common  purposes.  It  seemed 
to  be  not  used  at  all,  at  least  there  was  no  fire 
there,  and  a  cellar-like  feeling  and  smell  instead. 
That  was  no  wonder,  for  beyond  the  fire-place  on 
the  left  hand  was  the  opening  to  the  cellar,  which, 
running  under  the  other  part  of  the  house,  was  on 
a  level  with  this  kitchen.  It  had  no  furniture  but 
a  table  and  two  chairs.  The  thick,  heavy  door 
stood  open.  Passing  out,  Ellen  looked  around  her 
for  water, — in  what  shape  or  form  it  was  to  present 
itself  she  had  no  very  clear  idea.  She  soon  spied, 
a  few  yards  distant,  a  little  stream  of  water  pour- 
ing from  the  end  of  a  pipe  or  trough  raised  about  a 
foot  and  a  half  from  the  ground,  and  a  well-worn 
path  leading  to  it,  left  no  doubt  of  its  being  "  the 
spout."  But  when  she  had  reached  it  Ellen  was  in 
no  small  puzzle  as  to  how  she  should  manage.  The 
water  was  clear  and  bright,  and  poured  very 
fast  into  a  shallow  wooden  trough  underneath, 
whence  it  ran  off  into  the  meadow  and  disap- 
peared. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  without  a  basin/'  thought 
Ellen,  "  I  can't  catch  any  water  in  my  hands,  it 
runs  too  fast.  If  I  only  could  get  my  face  under 
there — that  v.ould  be  fine  !  " 

Very  carefully  and  cautiously  she  tried  it,  but 
the  continual  spattering  of  the  water  had  made  the 
board  on  which  she  stood  so  slippery  that  before 
her  face  could  reach  the  stream  she  came  very  neal 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  i6l 

tumbling  headlong,  and  so  taking  more  of  a  cold 
bath  than  she  wished  for.  So  she  contented  her- 
self with  the  drops  her  hands  could  bring  to  her 
face, — a  scanty  supply  ;  but  those  drops  were  de- 
liciously  cold  and  fresh.  And  afterwards  she 
pleased  herself  with  holding  her  hands  in  the  run- 
ning water,  till  they  were  red  with  the  cold.  On 
the  whole  Ellen  enjoyed  her  washing  very  much. 
The  morning  air  came  playing  about  her ;  its  cold 
breath  was  on  her  cheek  with  health  in  its  touch. 
The  early  sun  was  shining  on  tree,  and  meadow, 
and  hill ;  the  long  shadows  stretched  over  the 
grass,  and  the  very  brown  outhouses  looked  bright. 
She  thought  it  was  the  loveliest  place  she  ever  had 
seen.  And  that  sparkling,  trickling  water  was  cer- 
tainly the  purest  and  sweetest  she  had  ever  tasted. 
Where  could  it  come  from  ?  It  poured  from  a 
small  trough,  made  of  the  split  trunk  of  a  tree  with 
a  little  groove  or  channel  two  inches  wide  hollowed 
out  in  it.  But  at  the  end  of  one  of  these  troughs 
another  lapped  on,  and  another  at  the  end  of  that, 
and  how  many  there  were  Ellen  could  not  see,  nor 
where  the  beginning  of  them  was.  Ellen  stood  gaz- 
ing and  wondering,  drinking  in  the  fresh  air,  hope 
and  spirits  rising  every  minute,  when  she  suddenly 
recollected  breakfast  !  She  hurried  in.  As  she  ex- 
pected, her  aunt  was  at  the  table ;  but  to  her  sur- 
prise, and  not  at  all  to  her  gratification,  there  was 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  at  the  other  end  of  it,  eating  away, 
very  much  at  home  indeed  In  silent  dismay  Ellen 
drew  her  chair  to  the  side  of  the  table. 

"  Did  you  find  the   spot  ?  "   asked  Miss  Fortune. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 
*  Well,  how  do  you  like  it  ? " 


1 62  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Oh,  I  like  it  very  much  indeed,"  said  Ellen. 
"  I  think  it  is  beautiful." 

Miss  Fortune's  face  rather  softened  at  this,  and 
she  gave  Ellen  an  abundant  supply  of  all  that  was 
on  the  table.  Her  journey,  the  bracing  air,  and 
her  cool  morning  wash,  altogether,  had  made  Ellen 
very  sharp,  and  she  did  justice  to  the  breakfast. 
She  thought  never  was  coffee  so  good  as  this  coun- 
try coffee ;  nor  anything  so  excellent  as  the  brown 
bread  and  butter,  both  as  sweet  as  bread  and  but- 
ter could  be ;  neither  was  any  cookery  ever  so  en- 
tirely satisfactory  as  Miss  Fortune's  fried  pork  and 
potatoes.  Yet  her  teaspoon  was  not  silver ;  her 
knife  could  not  boast  of  being  either  sharp  or 
bright ;  and  her  fork  was  certainly  made  for  any- 
thing else  in  the  world  but  comfort  and  conven- 
ience, being  of  only  two  prongs,  and  those  so  far 
apart  that  Ellen  had  no  small  difficulty  to  carry  the 
potato  safely  from  her  plate  to  her  mouth.  It  mat- 
tered nothing  ;  she  was  now  looking  on  the  bright 
side  of  things,  and  ail  this  only  made  her  breakfast 
taste  the  sweeter. 

Ellen  ros~  from  the  table  when  she  had  finished, 
and  stood  a  few  minutes  thoughtfully  by  the  fire. 

"  Aunt  Fortune,"  she  said  at  length,  timidly,  "  if 
you've  no  objection,  I  should  like  to  go  and  take  a 
good  look  all  about." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "go  where  you 
like ;  I'll  give  you  a  week  to  do  what  you  please 
with  yourself." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  ran  off 
for  her  bonnet;  "a  week's  a  long  time.  I  sup- 
pose," thought  she,  "  I  shall  go  to  school  at  the 
end  of  that." 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  163 

Returning  quickly  with  her  white  bonnet,  Ellen 
opened  the  heavy  kitchen  door  by  which  she  had 
entered  last  night,  and  went  out.  She  found  her- 
self in  a  kind  of  long  shed.  It  had  very  rough 
walls  and  floor,  and  overhead  showed  the  brown 
beams  and  rafters  ;  two  little  windows  and  a  door 
were  on  the  side.  All  manner  of  rubbish  lay  there, 
especially  at  the  farther  end.  There  were  scattered 
about  and  piled  up  various  boxes,  boards,  farming 
and  garden  tools,  old  pieces  of  rope  and  sheepskin, 
old  iron,  a  cheese  press,  and  what  not.  Ellen  did 
not  stay  long  to  look,  but  went  out  to  find  some- 
thing pleasanter.  A  few  yards  from  the  shed  door 
was  the  little  gate  through  which  she  had  stumbled 
in  the  dark,  and  outside  of  that  Ellen  stood  still 
awhile.  It  was  a  fair,  pleasant  day,  and  the  country 
scene  she  looked  upon  was  very  pretty.  Ellen 
thought  so.  Before  her,  at  a  little  distance,  rose 
the  great  gable  end  of  the  barn,  and  a  long  row  of 
outhouses  stretched  away  from  it  towards  the  left. 
The  ground  was  strewn  thick  with  chips  ;  and  the 
reason  was  not  hard  to  find,  for  a  little  way  off, 
under  an  old  stunted  apple-tree,  lay  a  huge  log, 
well  chipped  on  the  upper  surface,  with  the  axe 
resting  against  it ;  and  close  by  were  some  sticks  of 
wood  both  chopped  and  unchopped.  To  the  right, 
the  ground  descended  gently  to  a  beautiful  plane 
meadow,  skirted  on  the  hither  side  with  a  row  of 
fine  apple-trees.  The  smooth  green  flat  tempted 
Ellen  to  a  run,  but  first  she  looked  to  the  left. 
There  was  the  garden,  she  guessed,  for  there  was  a 
paling  fence  which  enclosed  the  pretty  large  piece 
of  ground  ;  and  between  the  garden  and  the  house 
a  green  slope   ran  down  to   the   spout.     That  re* 


.164  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

aninded  her  that  she  had  intended  making  a  journey 
of  discovery  up  the  course  of  the  long  trough.  No 
time  could  be  better  than  now,  and  she  ran  down 
the  slope. 

The  troug.h  was  supported  at  some  height  from 
the  ground  by  little  heaps  of  stones  placed  here  and 
there  along  its  whole  course.  Not  far  from  the 
spout  it  crossed  a  fence.  Ellen  must  cross  it,  too, 
to  gain  her  object,  and  how  that  could  be  done 
was  a  great  question  ;  she  resolved  to  try,  however. 
But  first  she  played  awhile  with  the  water,  which 
had  great  charms  for  her.  She  dammed  up  the 
little  channel  with  her  fingers,  forcing  the  water  to 
flow  over  the  side  of  the  trough ; — there  was  some- 
thing very  pleasant  in  stopping  the  supply  of  the 
spout,  and  seeing  the  water  trickling  over  where  it 
had  no  business  to  go  ;  and  she  did  not  heed  that 
some  of  the  drops  took  her  frock  in  their  way.  She 
stooped  her  lips  to  the  trough  and  drank  of  its  sweet 
current, — only  for  fun's  sake,  for  she  was  not  thirsty. 
Finally,  she  set  out  to  follow  the  stream  up  to  its 
head.  But  poor  Ellen  had  not  gone  more  than 
half-way  towards  the  fence,  when  she  all  at  once 
plunged  into  the  mire.  The  green  grass  growing 
there  had  looked  fair  enough,  but  there  was  run- 
ning water  and  black  mud  under  the  green  grass,  she 
found  to  her  sorrow.  Her  shoes,  her  stockings, 
were  full.  What  was  to  be  done,  now  ?  The  jour- 
ney of  discovery  must  be  given  up.  She  forgot  to 
think  about  where  the  water  came  from,  in  the 
more  pressing  question,  "  What  will  Aunt  Fortune 
say  ? " — and  the  quick  wish  came  that  she  had 
her  mother  to  go  to.  However,  she  got  out  of 
the  slough,  and   wiping  her  shoes  as  well  as   she 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  165 

could  on  the  grass,  she  hastened  back  to  the 
house. 

The  kitchen  was  all  put  in  order,  the  hearth 
swept,  the  irons  at  the  fire,  and  Miss  Fortune  just 
pinning  her  ironing  blanket  or  the  table.  "  Well, 
— what's  the  matter  ? "  she  said,  when  she  saw 
Ellen's  face ;  but  as  her  glance  reached  the  floor, 
her  brow  darkened.  "  Mercy  on  me  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  slow  emphasis, — "  what  on  earth  have 
you  been  about  ?  where  have  you  been  ? " 

Ellen  explained. 

"  Well,  you  have  made  a  figure  of  yourself  !  Sit 
down  !  "  said  her  aunt,  shortly,  as  she  thrust  a  chair 
down  on  the  hearth  before  the  fire  ;  "I  should  have 
thought  you'd  have  had  wit  enough  at  your  age  to 
keep  out  of  the  ditch." 

"  I  didn't  see  any  ditch,"  said  Ellen. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  who 
was  energetically  twitching  off  Ellen's  shoes  and 
stockings  with  her  forefinger  and  thumb ;  I  sup- 
pose not  !  you  were  staring  up  at  the  moon  or  stars, 
I  suppose." 

"  It  all  looked  green  and  smooth,"  said  poor 
Ellen  ;  "  one  part  just  like  another  ;  and  the  first 
thing  I  knew  I  was  up  to  my  ankles." 

"  What  were  you  there  at  all  for  ?  "  said  Miss 
Fortune,  shortly  enough. 

"  I  couldn't  see  where  the  water  came  from,  and 
I  wanted  to  find  out." 

"  Well,  you've  found  out  enough  for  one  day,  I 
hope.  Just  look  at  those  stockings  !  Ha'n't  you 
got  never  a  pair  of  colored  stockings,  that  you 
must  go  poking  into  the  mud  with  white  ones  ?  " 

*  No,  ma'am." 


166  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  never  wore  anj  but 
white  ones  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  never  had  any  others." 

Miss  Fortune's  thoughts  seemed  too  much  for 
speech,  from  the  way  in  which  she  jumped  up  and 
went  off  without  saying  anything  more.  She 
presently  came  back  with  an  old  pair  of  gray  socks, 
which  she  bade  Ellen  put  on  as  soon  as  her  feet 
were  dry. 

"  How  many  of  those  white  stockings  have  you  ?  " 
she  said. 

"  Mamma  bought  me  half  a  dozen  pair  ot  new 
ones  just  before  I  came  away,  and  I  had  as  many 
as  that  of  old  ones  besides." 

"  Well,  now,  go  up  to  your  trunk  and  bring  'em 
all  down  to  me — every  pair  of  white  stockings  you 
have  got.  There's. a  pair  of  old  slippers  you  can 
put  on  till  your  shoes  are  dry,"  she  said,  flinging 
them  to  her  ;  "  they  aren't  much  too  big  for  you." 

"  They're  not  much  too  big  for  the  socks — they're 
a  great  deal  too  big  for  me,"  thought  Ellen.  But 
she  said  nothing.  She  gathered  all  her  stockings 
together  and  brought  them  downstairs,  as  her 
aunt  had  bidden  her. 

"  Now  you  may  run  out  to  the  barn,  to  Mr.  Van 
Brunt, — you'll  find  him  there, — and  tell  him  I  want 
him  to  bring  me  some  white  maple  bark,  when  he 
comes  home  to  dinner, — white  maple  bark,  do  you 
hear  ? " 

Away  went  Ellen,  but  in  a  few  minutes  came 
back.     "  I  can't  get  in,"  she  said. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Those  great  doors  are  shut,  and  I  can't  open 
them.     I  knocked,  but  nobody  came." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  $3f 

"  Knock  at  a  barn  door  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune. 
"  You  must  go  in  at  the  little  cowhouse  door,  at 
the  left,  and  go  round.  He's  in  the  lower  barn- 
floor." 

The  barn  stood  lower  than  the  level  of  the  chip- 
yard,  from  which  a  little  bridge  led  to  the  great 
doorway  of  the  second  floor.  Passing  down  the 
range  of  outhouses,  Ellen  came  to  the  little  door  her 
aunt  had  spoken  of.  "  But  what  in  the  world  should  I 
do  if  there  should  be  cows  inside  there  ? "  said  she 
to  herself.  She  peeped  in ; — the  cowhouse  was 
perfectly  empty ;  and  cautiously,  and  with  many  a 
fearful  glance  to  the  right  and  left,  lest  some 
terrible  horned  animal  should  present  itself,  Ellen 
made  her  way  across  the  cowhouse,  and  through 
the  barn-yard,  littered  thick  with  straw,  wet  and 
dry,  to  the  lower  barn-floor.  The  door  of  this  stood 
wide  open.  Ellen  looked  with  wonder  and  pleasure 
when  she  got  in.  It  was  an  immense  room — the 
sides  showed  nothing  but  hay  up  to  the  ceiling, 
except  here  and  there  an  enormous  upright  post ; 
the  floor  was  perfectly  clean,  only  a  few  locks  of 
hay  and  grains  of  wheat  scattered  upon  it ;  and  a 
pleasant  sweet  smell  was  there,  Ellen  could  not 
tell  of  what.  But  no  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  She  looked 
about  for  him,  she  dragged  her  disagreeable  slip- 
pers back  and  forth  over  the  floor,  in  vain. 

"  Hilloa !  what's  wanting  ?  "  at  length  cried  a 
rough  voice  she  remembered  very  well.  But  where 
was  the  speaker  ?  On  every  side,  to  every  corner, 
her  eyes  turned  without  finding  him.  She  looked 
up  at  last.  There  was  the  round  face  of  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  peering  down  at  her  through  a  large  opening 
or  trap-door,  in  the  upper  floor. 


1 68  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Well ! "  said  he,  -  ■  have  you  come  out  here  to 
help  me  thrash  wheat  ?  " 

Ellen  told  him  what  she  had  come  for. 

"  White  maple  bark, — well," — said  he,  in  his  slow 
way,  "  I'll  bring  it.  I  wonder  what's  in  the  wind 
now." 

So  Ellen  wondered,  as  she  slowly  went  back 
to  the  house ;  and  yet  more,  when  her  aunt  set 
her  to  tacking  her  stockings  together  by  two  and 
two. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them,  Aunt 
Fortune  ?  "  she  at  last  ventured  to  say. 

"  You'll  see, — when  the  time  comes." 

"  Mayn't  I  keep  out  one  pair  ?  "  said  Ellen,  who 
had  a  vague  notion  that  by  some  mysterious  means 
her  stockings  were  to  be  prevented  from  evei 
looking  white  any  more. 

"  No  ; — just  do  as  I  tell  you." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  at  dinner-time  with  the 
white  maple  bark.  It  was  thrown  forthwith  into  a 
brass  kettle  of  water  which  Miss  Fortune  had 
already  hung  over  the  fire.  Ellen  felt  sure  this  had 
something  to  do  with  her  stockings,  but  she  could 
ask  no  questions  ;  and  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over 
she  went  up  to  her  room.  It  didn't  look  pleasant 
now.  The  brown  wood-work  and  rough  dingy 
walls  had  lost  their  gilding.  The  sunshine  was  out 
of  it  ;  and  what  was  more,  the  sunshine  was  out  of 
Ellen's  heart  too.  She  went  to  the  window  and 
opened  it,  but  there  was  nothing  to  keep  it  open ; 
it  slid  down  again  as  soon  as  she  let  it  go.  Baffled 
and  sad,  she  stood  leaning  her  elbows  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, looking  out  on  the  grass-plat  that  lay  be- 
fore the  door,  and  the  little  gate  that  opened  on  the 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  169 

lane,  and  the  smooth  meadow,  and  rich  broken 
country  beyond.  It  was  a  very  fair  and  pleasant 
scene  in  the  soft  sunlight  of  the  last  of  October ; 
but  the  charm  of  it  was  gone  for  Ellen  ;  it  was 
dreary.  She  looked  without  caring  to  look  or 
knowing  what  she  was  looking  at ;  she  felt  the 
tears  rising  to  her  eyes ;  and  sick  of  the  window, 
turned  away.  Her  eye  fell  on  her  trunk ;  her  next 
thought  was  of  her  desk  inside  of  it ;  and  suddenly 
her  heart  sprang ; — "  I  will  write  to  mamma  ! " 
No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  trunk  was  quickly 
opened,  and  hasty  hands  pulled  out  one  thing  after 
another  till  the  desk  was  reached. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ? "  thought  she, — "  there 
isn't  a  sign  of  a  table.  Oh,  what  a  place  !  I'll 
shut  my  trunk  and  put  it  on  that.  But  here  are  all 
these  things  to  put  back  first." 

They  were  eagerly  stowed  away  ;  and  then  kneel- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  trunk,  with  loving  hands 
Ellen  opened  her  desk.  A  sheet  of  paper  was 
drawn  from  her  store,  and  properly  placed  before 
her ;  the  pen  dipped  in  the  ink,  and  at  first  with 
a  hurried,  then  with  a  trembling  hand,  she  wrote, 
"  My  dear  Mamma."  But  Ellen's  heart  had  been 
swelling  and  swelling  with  every  letter  of  those 
three  words,  and  scarcely  was  the  last  "  a  "  finished, 
when  the  pen  was  dashed  down,  and  flinging  away 
from  the  desk,  she  threw  herself  on  the  floor  in  a 
passion  of  grief.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  her  mother 
again  in  her  arms,  and  was  clinging  with  a  death- 
grasp  not  to  be  parted  from  her.  And  then  the 
feeling  that  she  was  parted  ! — As  much  bitter  sor- 
row as  a  little  heart  can  know  was  in  poor  Ellen's 
now.     In  her  childish  despair  she  wished  she  could 


170  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

die,  and  almost  thought  she  should.  After  a  time, 
however,  though  not  a  short  time,  she  rose  from  the 
floor  and  went  to  her  writing  again  ;  her  heart  a 
little  eased  by  weeping,  yet  the  tears  kept  coming 
all  the  time,  and  she  could  not  quite  keep  her  paper 
from  being  blotted.  The  first  sheet  was  spoiled 
before    she  was  aware  ;  she  took  another. 

"  My  dearest  Mamma, — 

"  It  makes  me  so  glad  and  so  sorry  to  write  to 
you,  that  1  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  want  to  see 
you  so  much,  mamma,  that  it  seems  to  me  some- 
times as  if  my  heart  would  break.  Oh,  mamma,  if 
I  could  just  kiss  you  once  more,  I  would  give  any- 
thing in  the  whole  world.  I  can't  be  happy  as 
long  as  you  are  away,  and  I  am  afraid  I  can't  be 
e;ood  either ;  but  I  will  try.  Oh,  I  will  try,  mam- 
ma. I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you  that  I  don't 
know  where  to  begin.  I  am  sure  my  paper  will 
never  hold  it  all.  You  will  want  to  know  about  my 
journey.  The  first  day  was  on  the  steamboat,  you 
know.  I  should  have  hid  a  dreadful  time  that 
day,  mamma,  but  for  something  I'll  tell  you  about. 
I  was  sitting  up  on  the  upper  deck,  thinking 
about  you,  and  feeling  very  badly  indeed,  when  a 
gentleman  came  and  spoke  to  me,  and  asked  me 
what  was  the  matter.  Mamma,  I  can't  tell  you 
how  kind  he  was  to  me.  He  kept  me  with  him  the 
whole  day.  He  took  me  all  over  the  boat,  and 
showed  me  all  about  a  great  many  things,  and  he 
talked  to  me  a  great  deal.  Oh,  mamma,  how  he 
talked  to  me.  He  read  in  the  Bible  to  me,  and  ex- 
plained it,  and  he  tried  to  make  me  be  a  Christian. 
And  oh,  mamma,  when  he  was  talking  to  me,  how 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  17  j 

I  wanted  to  do  as  he  ^id,  and  I  resolved  I  would. 
I  did,  mamma,  and  I  have  not  forgotten  it.  I  will 
try  indeed,  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  very  hard 
without  you  or  him,  or  anybody  else  to  help  me. 
You  couldn't  have  been  kinder  yourself,  mamma ; 
he  kissed  me  at  night  when  I  bid  him  good-bye, 
and  I  was  very  sorry  indeed.  I  wish  I  could  see 
him  again.  Mamma,  I  will  always  love  that  gentle- 
man if  I  never  see  him  again  in  the  world.  I  wish 
there  was  somebody  here  that  I  could  love,  but 
there  is  not.  You  will  want  to  know  what  sort  of 
a  person  my  Aunt  Fortune  is,  I  think  she  is  very 
good-looking,  or  she  would  be  if  her  nose  was  not 
quite  so  shar^  :  but,  mamma,  I  can'c  tell  you  what 
sort  of  a  feeling  I  have  about  her ;  it  seems  to  me 
as  if  she  was  sharp  all  over.  I  am  sure  her  eyes 
are  as  sharp  as  two  needles.  And  she  don't  walk 
like  other  people  ;  at  least  sometimes.  She  makes 
queer  little  jerks  and  starts  and  jumps,  and  flies 
about  like  I  don't  know  what.  I  am  afraid  it  is 
not  right  for  me  to.  write  so  about  her  ;  but  may  I 
not  tell  you,  mamma  ?  There's  nobody  else  forme 
to  talk  to.  I  can't  like  Aunt  Fortune  much  yet, 
and  I  am  sure  she  don't  like  me  ;  but  I  will  try  to 
make  her.  I  have  not  forgotten  what  you  said  to 
me  about  that.  Oh,  dear  mamma,  I  will  try  to  mind 
everything  you  ever  said  to  me.  in  your  life.  I  am 
afraid  you  won't  like  what  I  have  written  about 
Aunt  Fortune  ;  but  indeed  I  have  done  nothing  to 
displease  her,  and  I  will  try  not  to.  If  you  were 
only  here,  mamma,  I  should  say  it  was  the  loveliest 
place  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Perhaps,  after  all,  I 
shall  feel  better,  and  be  quite  happy  by  and  by ; 
but  oh,  mamma,  how  glad  I  shall  be  when  I  get    a 


172  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

letter  from  you.  I  shall  begin  to  look  for  it  soon, 
and  I  think  I  shall  go  out  of  my  wits  with  joy  when 
it  comes.  I  had  the  funniest  ride  down  here  from 
Thirlwall  that  you  can  think ;  how  do  you  guess  I 
came  ?  In  a  cart  drawn  by  oxen.  They  went  so 
slow  we  were  an  age  getting  here ;  but  I  liked  it 
very  much.  There  was  a  good-natured  man  driv- 
ing the  oxen,  and  he  was  kind  to  me  ;  but,  mamma, 
what  do  you  think  ?  he  eats  at  the  table.  I  know 
what  you  would  tell  me ;  you  would  say  I  must  not 
mind  trifles.  Well,  I  will  try  not,  mamma.  Oh, 
darling  mother,  I  can't  think  much  of  anything  but 
you.  I  think  of  you  the  whole  time.  Who  makes 
tea  for  you  now  ?  Are  you  better  ?  Are  you  going 
to  leave  New  York  soon  ?  It  seems  dreadfully 
long  since  I  saw  you.  I  am  tired,  dear  mamma, 
and  cold ;  and  it  is  getting  dark.  I  must  stop.  I 
have  a  good  big  room  to  myself  ;  that  is  a  good 
thing.  I  should  not  like  to  sleep  with  Aunt  Fort- 
une. Good-night,  dear  mamma.  I  wish  I  could 
sleep  with  you  once  more.  Oh,  when  will  that  be 
again,  mamma?     Good-night.     Good-night. 

"  Your  affectionate  Ellen." 

The  letter  finished,  was  carefully  folded,  en- 
closed, and  directed  ;  and  then  with  an  odd 
mixture  of  pleasure  and  sadness,  Ellen  lit  one  of 
her  little  wax  matches,  as  she  called  them,  and 
sealed  it  very  nicely.  She  looked  at  it  fondly  a 
minute  when  all  was  done,  thinking  of  the  dear  fingers 
that  would  hold  and  open  it ;  her  next  movement 
was  to  sink  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  pray  most 
earnestly  for  a  blessing  upon  her  mother,  and  help 
for  herself, — poor  Ellen  felt  she  needed  it.     She 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  173 

was  afraid  of  lingering  lest  tea  should  be  ready  y 
so,  locking  up  her  letter,  she  went  downstairs. 

The  tea  was  ready.  Miss  Fortune  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  were  at  the  table,  and  so  was  the  old 
lady,  whom  Ellen  had  not  seen  before  that  day. 
She  quietly  drew  up  her  chair  to  its  place. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  I  hope  you  feel 
better  for  your  long  stay  upstairs." 

"  I  do,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  a  great  deal 
better." 

"  What  have  you  been  about  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  writing,  ma'am." 

"  Writing  what  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  writing  to  mamma." 

Perhaps  Miss  Fortune  heard  the  trembling  of 
Ellen's  voice,  or  her  sharp  glance  saw  her  lip 
quiver  and  eyelid  droop.  Something  softened  her. 
She  spoke  in  a  different  tone  ;  asked  Ellen  if  her 
tea  was  good  ;  took  care  she  had  plenty  of  the 
bread  and  butter,  and  excellent  cheese,  which  was 
on  the  table ;  and  lastly  cut  her  a  large  piece  of  the 
pumpkin  pie.  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  too,  looked  once  or 
twice  at  Ellen's  face  as  if  he  thought  all  was  not 
right  there.  He  was  not  so  sharp  as  Miss  Fortune, 
but  the  swollen  eyes  and  tear-stains  were  not  quite 
lost  upon  him. 

After  tea,  when  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  gone,  and 
the  tea-things  cleared  away,  Ellen  had  the  pleasure 
of  finding  out  the  mystery  of  the  brass  kettle  and 
the  white  maple  bark.  The  kettle  now  stood  in 
the  chimney  corner.  Miss  Fortune,  seating  herself 
before  it,  threw  in  all  Ellen's  stockings  except  one 
pair,  which  she  flung  over  to  her,  saying,  "  There — 
I  don't  care  if  you  keep  that  one."     Then,  tucking; 


I74  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

up  her  sleeves  to  the  elbows,  she  fished  up  pah 
after  pair  out  of  the  kettle,  and  wringing  them  out, 
hung  them  on  chairs  to  dry.  But,  as  Ellen  had 
opined,  they  were  no  longer  white,  but  of  a  fine 
slate  color.  She  looked  on  in  silence,  too  much 
vexed  to  ask  questions. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  that  ? "  said  Miss 
Fortune,  at  length,  when  she  had  got  two  or  three 
chairs  around  the  fire  pretty  well  hung  with  a 
display  of  slate-colored  cotton  legs. 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Ellen. 

11  Well,  I  do.  How.  many  pair  of  white  stockings 
would  you  like  to  drive  into  the  mud  and  let  me 
wash  out  every  week  ?  " 

"  You  wash  !  :f  said  Ellen,  in  surprise  ;  "  I  didn't 
think  of  your  doing  it." 

"  Who  did  you  think  was  going  to  do  it  ? 
There's  nothing  in  this  house  but  goes  through  my 
hands,  I  can  tell  you,  and  so  must  you.  I  suppose 
you've  lived  all  your  life  among  people  that  thought 
a  great  deal  of  wetting  their  little  finger ;  but  I'm 
not  one  of  'em,  I  guess  you'll  find." 

Ellen  was  convinced  of  that  already. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  said  Miss 
Fortune,  presently. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  my  nice  white  darning-cotton," 
said  Ellen.     "  I  might  just  as  well  not  have  had  it." 

"  Is  it  wound  or  in  the  skein  ? " 

"  In  the  skein." 

"  Then  just  go  right  up  and  get  it.  I'll  warrant 
I'll  fix  it  so  that  you'll  have  a  use  for  it." 

Ellen  obeyed,  but  musing  rather  uncomfortably 
what  else  there  was  of  hers  that  Miss  Fortune 
could  lay  hands  on.     She  seemed  in  imagination 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  175 

to  see  all  her  white  things  turning  brown.  She 
resolved  she  would  keep  her  trunk  well  locked  up ; 
but  what  if  her  keys  should  be  called  for  ? 

She  was  dismissed  to  her  room  soon  after  the 
dyeing  business  was  completed.  It  was  rather  a 
disagreeable  surprise  to  find  her  bed  still  unmade ; 
and  she  did  not  at  all  like  the  notion  that  the 
making  of  it  in  future  must  depend  entirely  upon 
herself ;  Ellen  had  no  fancy  for  such  handiwork. 
She  went  to  sleep  in  somewhat  the  same  dissatisfied 
mood  with  which  the  day  had  been  begun  ; — dis- 
pleasure at  her  coarse  heavy  coverlid  and  cotton 
sheets  again  taking  its  place  among  weightier 
matters  ; — and  dreamed  of  tying  them  together  into 
a  rope  by  which  to  let  herself  down  out  of  the 
window ;  but  when  she  had  got  so  far,  Ellen's 
sleep  became  sound,  and  the  end  of  the  dream  was 
never  known. 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Downward  and  ever  farther, 

And  ever  the  brook  beside ; 
And  ever  fresher  murmured, 

And  ever  clearer,  the  tide. 

Longfellow.    (From  the  German.) 

Clouds  and  rain  and  cold  winds  kept  Ellen 
within  doors  for  several  days.  This  did  not  better 
the  state  of  matters  between  herself  and  her  aunt. 
Shut  up  with  her  in  the  kitchen  from  morning  till 
night,  with  the  only  variety  of  the  old  lady's  com- 
pany part  of  the  time,  Ellen  thought  neither  of 
them  improved  upon  acquaintance.  Perhaps  they 
thought  the  same  of  her  ;  she  was  certainly  not  in 
her  best  mood.  With  nothing  to  do,  the  time 
hanging  very  heavy  on  her  hands,  disappointed, 
unhappy,   frequently    irritated,    Ellen    became    at 


176  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD, 

length  very  ready  to  take  offense,  and  nowise  di» 
posed  to  pass  it  over  or  smooth  it  away.  She 
seldom  showed  this  in  words,  it  is  true,  but  it 
rankled  in  her  mind.  Listless  and  brooding,  she 
sat  day  after  day,  comparing  the  present  with  the 
past,  wishing  vain  wishes,  indulging  bootless 
regrets,  and  looking  upon  her  aunt  and  grand- 
mother with  an  eye  of  more  settled  aversion.  The 
only  other  person  she  saw  was  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  who 
came  in  regularly  to  meals  ;  but  he  never  said 
anything  unless  in  answer  to  Miss  Fortune's 
questions  and  remarks  about  the  farm  concerns. 
These  did  not  interest  her;  and  she  was  greatly 
wearied  with  the  sameness  of  her  life.  She  longed 
to  go  out  again;  but  Thursday,  and  Friday,  and 
Saturday,  and  Sunday  passed,  and  the  weather 
still  kept  her  close  prisoner.  Monday  brought  a 
change,  but  though  a  cool,  drying  wind  blew  all 
day,  the  ground  was  too  wet  to  venture  out. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  as  Miss  Fortune 
was  setting  the  table  for  tea,  and  Ellen  sitting 
before  the  fire,  feeling  weary  of  everything,  the 
kitchen  door  opened,  and  a  girl  somewhat  larger 
and  older  than  herself  came  in.  She  had  a  pitcher 
In  her  hand,  and  marching  straight  up  to  the  tea- 
table,  she  said, — 

"  Will  you  let  granny  have  a  little  milk  to-night, 
Miss  Fortune  ?  I  can't  find  the  cow.  I'll  bring  it 
back  to-morrow." 

"  You  ha'n't  lost  her,  Nancy  ?  " 

"Have,  though,"  said  the  other;  "  she's  been 
away  these  two  days." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  somewhere  nearer  for  milk  ? " 

"  Oh  !    I    don't   know — I   guess   your'n   is    the 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  177 

sweetest,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  look  Ellen  did  not 
understand. 

Miss  Fortune  took  the  pitcher  and  went  into  the 
pantry.  While  she  was  gone,  the  two  children  im- 
proved the  time  in  looking  very  hard  at  each  other. 
Ellen's  gaze  was  modest  enough,  though  it  showed 
a  great  deal  of  interest  in  the  new  object ;  but  the 
broad,  searching  stare  of  the  other  seemed  in- 
tended to  take  in  all  there  was  of  Ellen  from  her 
head  to  her  feet,  and  keep  it,  and  find  out  what 
sort  of  a  creature  she  was  at  once.  Ellen  almost 
shrank  from  the  bold  black  eyes,  but  they  never 
wavered,  till  Miss  Fortune's  voice  broke  the   spell. 

"  How's  your  grandmother,  Nancy  ?  " 

"  She's  tolerable,  ma'am,  thank  you." 

"  Now,  if  you  don't  bring  it  back  to-morrow,  you 
won't  get  any  more  in  a  hurry,"  said  Miss  Fortune, 
as  she  handed  the  pitcher  back  to  the  girl. 

"  I'll  mind  it,"  said  the  latter,  with  a  little  nod  of 
her  head,  which  seemed  to  say  there  was  no  danger 
of  her  forgetting. 

"  Who  is  that,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  "  said  Ellen,  when 
she  was  gone. 

"  She  is  a  girl  that  lives  up  on  the  mountain 
yonder." 

"  But  what's  her  name  ? " 

"  I  had  just  as  lief  you  wouldn't  know  her  name. 
She  ain't  a  good  girl.  Don't  you  never  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  her." 

Ellen  was  in  no  mind  to  give  credit  to  all  her 
aunt's  opinions,  and  she  set  this  down  as,  in  part 
at  least,  coming  from  ill-humor. 

The  next  morning  was  calm  and  fine,  and  Ellen 
spent  nearly  the  whole  of  it  out  of  doors.  She 
12 


Ij8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

did  not  venture  near  the  ditch,  but  in  every  othef 
direction  she  explored  the  ground,  and  examined 
what  stood  or  grew  upon  it  as  thoroughly  as  she 
dared.  Towards  noon  she  was  standing  by  the 
little  gate  at  the  back  of  the  house,  unwilling  to  go 
in,  but  not  knowing  what  more  to  do,  when  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  came  from  the  lane  with  a  load  of  wood. 
Ellen  watched  the  oxen  toiling  up  the  ascent,  and 
thought  it  looked  like  very  hard  work  ;  she  was  sorry 
for  them. 

"  Isn't  that  a  very  heavy  load  ? "  she  asked  of 
their  driver,  as  he  was  throwing  it  down  under  the 
apple-tree. 

"  Heavy  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It  ain't  nothing  at 
all  to  'em.  They'd  take  twice  as  much  any  day  with 
pleasure." 

"I  shouldn't  think  so,"  said  Ellen  ;  "they  don't 
look  as  if  there  was  much  pleasure  about  it.  What 
makes  them  lean  over  so  against  each  other  when 
they  are  coming  uphill  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  just  a  way  they've  got.  They're  so 
fond  of  each  other,  I  suppose.  Perhaps  they've 
something  particular  to  say,  and  want  to  put  their 
heads  together  for  the  purpose." 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  half  laughing,  "  it  can't  be 
that ;  they  wouldn't  take  the  very  hardest  time  for 
that ;  they  would  wait  till  they  got  to  the  top  of  the 
hill ;  but  there  they  stand  just  as  if  they  were  asleep, 
only  their  eyes  are  open.     Poor  things  !  " 

"They're  not  very  poor,  anyhow,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt ;  "  there  ain't  a  finer  yoke  of  oxen  to  be  seen 
than  them  are,  nor  in  better  condition." 

He  went  on  throwing  the  wood  out  of  the  cart, 
ind  Ellen  stood  looking  at  him. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  179 

"  What'll  you  give  me  if  I'll  make  you  a  scup  one 
of  these  days  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  A  scup  !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes — a  scup  !  how  would  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  said  Ellen. 

"  A  scup  ! — maybe  you  don't  know  it  by  that 
name ;  some  folks  call  it  a  swing." 

"  A  swing  !  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ellen,  "  now  I  know. 
Oh,  I  like  it  very  much." 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  one  ? 

"  Yes,  indeed,  1  should,  very  much." 

"Well,  what'll  you  give  me,  if  I'll  fix  you 
out?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  have  nothing  to 
give  ;  I'll  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  indeed." 

"  Well,  now,  come,  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you  : 
I'll  engage  to  fix  up  a  scup  for  you,  if  you'll  give  me 
a  kiss." 

Poor  Ellen  was  struck  dumb.  The  good-natured 
Dutchman  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  little  pale-faced, 
sad-looking  stranger,  and  really  felt  very  kindly 
disposed  toward  her,  but  she  neither  knew,  nor  at 
the  moment  cared  about  that.  She  stood  motion- 
less, utterly  astounded  at  his  unheard-of  proposal, 
and  not  a  little  indignant ;  but  when,  with  a  good- 
natured  smile  upon  his  round  face,  he  came  near 
to  claim  the  kiss  he  no  doubt  thought  himself  sure 
of,  Ellen  shot  from  him  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow„ 
She  rushed  to  the  house,  and  bursting  open  the 
door,  stood  with  flushed  face  and  sparkling  eyes  in 
the  presence  of  her  astonished  aunt. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ?  "  exclaimed 
that  lady. 

"He  wanted  to   kiss    me!"  said  Ellen,  scare* 


iSo  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

knowing  whom  she  was  talking  to,  and  crimsoning 
more  and  more. 

"  Who  wanted  to  kiss  you  ?  " 

"  That  man  out  there." 

"  What  man  ?  " 

"The  man  that  drives  the  oxen. 

"What!  Mr.  Van  Brunt?"  And  Ellen  never 
forgot  the  loud  ha  !  ha  !  which  burst  from  Miss 
Fortune's  wide-open  mouth. 

"  Well,  why  didn't  you  let  him  kiss  you  ?  " 

The  laugh,  the  look,  the  tone,  stung  Ellen  to  the 
very  quick.  In  a  fury  of  passion  she  dashed  away 
out  of  the  kitchen,  and  up  to  her  own  room.  And 
there,  for  awhile,  the  storm  of  anger  drove  over 
her  with  such  violence  that  conscience  had  hardly 
time  to  whisper.  Sorrow  came  in  again  as  passion 
faded,  and  gentler  but  very  bitter  weeping  took  the 
place  of  convulsive  sobs  of  rage  and  mortification, 
and  then  the  whispers  of  conscience  began  to  be 
heard  a  little.  "  Oh,  mamma  !  mamma  !  "  cried 
poor  Ellen  in  her  heart,  "how  miserable  I  am 
without  you !  I  never  can  like  Aunt  Fortune — it's 
of  no  use — I  never  can  like  her ;  I  hope  I  sha'n't 
get  to  hate  her  ! — and  that  isn't  right.  I  am  for- 
getting all  that  is  good,  and  there's  nobody  to  put 
me  in  mind.  Oh,  mamma !  if  I  could  lay  my 
head  in  your  lap  for  a  minute  ! "  Then  came 
thoughts  of  her  Bible  and  hymn-book,  and  the 
friend  who  had  given  it ;  sorrowful  thoughts  they 
were ;  and  at  last,  humbled  and  sad,  poor  Ellen 
sought  that  great  Friend  she  knew  she  had  dis- 
pleased, and  prayed  earnestly  to  be  made  a  good 
child  ;  she  felt  and  owned  she  was  not  one  now. 

It  was  long  after  midday  when  Ellen  rose  from 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD^.  i&i 

her  knees.  Her  passion  was  all  gone;:  she  felt 
more  gentle  and  pleasant  than  she  had  done  for 
days ;  but  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  resentment 
was  not  all  gone.  She  still  thought  she  had  cause 
to  be  angry,  and  she  could  not  think  of  her  aunt's 
look  and  tone  without  a  thrill  of  painful  feeling. 
In  a  very  different  mood,  however,  from  that  in 
which  she  had  flown  upstairs  two  or  three  hours 
before,  she  now  came  softly  down,  and  went  out  by 
the  front  door,  to  avoid  meeting  her  aunt.  She 
had  visited  that  morning  a  little  brook  which  ran 
through  the  meadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 
It  had  great  charms  for  her  ;  and  now  crossing  the 
lane  and  creeping  under  the  fence,  she  made  her 
way  again  to  its  banks.  At  a  particular  spot,, 
where  the  brook  made  one  of  its  sudden  turns, 
Ellen  sat  down  upon  the  grass,  and  watched  the 
dark  water, — whirling,  brawling  over  the  stones, 
hurrying  past  her,  with  ever  the  same  soft  pleasant 
sound,  and  she  was  never  tired  of  it.  She  did  not 
hear  footsteps  drawing  near,  and  it  was  not 
till  some  one  was  close  beside  her,  and  a  voice 
spoke  almost  in  her  ears,  that  she  raised  her  startled 
eyes  and  saw  the  little  girl  who  had  come  the: 
evening  before  for  a  pitcher  of  milk. 

"What  are  you  doing  ?"  said  the  latter. 

"  I'm  watching  for  fish,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Watching  for  fish  !  "  said  the  other,  rather  dis- 
dainfully. 

"Yes,"  said  Ellen, — "there,  in  that  little  quiet 
place,  they  come  sometimes-,  I've  seen  two." 

"  You  can  look  for  fish  another  time.  Come 
now  and  take  a  walk  with  me." 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Ellen. 


182  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Oh,  you  shall  see.  Come !  I'll  take  you  all 
about  and  show  you  where  people  live  ;  you  haVt 
been  anywhere  yet,  have  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ellen, — "and  I  should  like  very 
much  to  go,  but " 

She  hesitated.  Her  aunt's  words  came  to  mind, 
that  this  was  not  a  good  girl,  and  that  she  must  have 
nothing  to  do  with  her  ;  but  she  had  not  more  than 
half  believed  them,  and  she  could  not  possibly 
bring  herself  now  to  go  in  and  ask  Miss  Fortune's 
leave  to  take  this  walk.  "  I  am  sure,"  thought 
Ellen,  "  she  would  refuse  me  if  there  was  no  reason 
in  the  world."  And  then  the  delight  of  rambling 
through  the  beautiful  country,  and  being  for  awhile 
in  other  company  than  that  of  her  Aunt  Fortune 
and  the  old  grandmother  !  The  temptation  was  too 
great  to  be  withstood. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  said  the 
girl ;  "  what's  the  matter  ?  won't  you  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Elle?v  "  I'm  ready.  Which  way 
shall  we  go  ?  " 

With  the  assurance  from  the  other  that  she 
would  show  her  plenty  of  ways,  they  set  off  down 
the  lane ;  Ellen  with  a  secret  fear  of  being  seen 
and  called  back,  till  they  had  gone  some  distance, 
and  the  house  was  hid  from  view.  Then  her  pleas- 
ure became  great.  The  afternoon  was  fair  and 
mild,  the  footing  pleasant,  and  Ellen  felt  like  a 
bird  out  of  a  cage.  She  was  ready  to  be  delighted 
with  every  trifle ;  her  companion  could  not  by  any 
means  understand  or  enter  into  her  bursts  of  pleas- 
ure at  many  a  little  thing  which  she  of  the  black 
eyes  thought  not  worthy  of  notice.  She  tried  to 
bring  Ellen  back  to  higher  subjects  of  conversation, 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  183 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  a  good  while,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  don't  know 
exactly ;  it's  a  week,  I  believe." 

"  Why  do  you  call  that  a  good  while  ?  "  said  the 
other. 

"  Well,  it  seems  a  good  while  to  me,"  said  Ellen, 
sighing  ;   "  it  seems  as  long  as  four,  I  am  sure." 

"  Then  you  don't  like  to  live  here  much,  do 
you  ?  " 

"  I  had  rather  be  at  home,  of  course." 

"  How  do  you  like  your  Aunt  Fortune  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  like  her  ? "  said  Ellen,  hesitating, — 
"  I  think  she's  good-looking,  and  very  smart." 

"  Yes,  you  needn't  tell  me  she's  smart, — every- 
body knows  that ;  that  ain't  what  I  ask  you  ; — how 
do  you  like  her  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  like  her  ?  "  said  Ellen  again  ;  "  how 
can  I  tell  how  I  shall  like  her  ?  I  haven't  lived  with 
her  but  a  week  yet." 

"  You  might  just  as  well  ha'  spoke  out,"  said  the 
other,  somewhat  scornfully  ; — "  do  you  think  I  don't 
know  you  half  hate  her  already  ?  and  it'll  be  whole 
hating  in  another  week  more.  When  I  tirst  heard 
you'd  come,  I  guessed  you'd  have  a  sweet  time  with 
her." 

"  Why?"  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me  why,"  said  the  other,  impa- 
tiently, "  when  you  know  as  well  as  I  do.  Every 
soul  that  speaks  of  you  says  '  Poor  child  ! '  and 
;  I'm  glad  I  ain't  her.'  You  needn't  try  to  come 
cunning  over  me.  I  shall  be  too  much  for  you,  I 
tell  you." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  suppose  you  don't,"  said  the  other, 


184  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

in  the  same  tone, — "  of  course  you  don't  ;  I  sup- 
pose you  don't  know  whether  your  tongue  is  your 
own  or  somebody's  else.  You  think  Miss  Fortune 
is  an  angel,  and  so  do  I ;  to  be  sure  she  is  ! " 

Not  very  well  pleased  with  this  kind  of  talk, 
Ellen  walked  on  for  a  while  in  grave  silence.  Her 
companion  meantime  recollected  herself ;  when  she 
spoke  again  it  was  with  an  altered  tone. 

"  How  do  you  like  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  him  at  all,"  said  Ellen,  reddening. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  said  the  other,  surprised, — "  why, 
everybody  likes  him.  What  don't  you  like  him  for  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  repeated  Ellen. 

"  Ain't  Miss  Fortune  queer  to  live  in  the  way  she 
does  ?  " 

"  What  way  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Why,  without  any  help, — doing  all  her  own 
work,  and  living  all  alone,  when  she's  so  rich  as 
she  is." 

"  Is  she  rich  ? "  asked  Ellen. 

"  Rich !  I  guess  she  is  !  she's  one  of  the  ver} 
best  farms  in  the  country,  and  money  enough  to 
have  a  dozen  help,  if  she  wanted  'em.  Van  Brunt 
takes  care  of  the  farm,  you  know  ? " 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  he  does ;  didn't  you  know 
that  ?  what  did  you  think  he  was  at  your  house  all 
the  time  for  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen.  "  And 
are  those  Aunt  Fortune's  oxen  that  he  drives  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  they  are.  Well,  I  do  think  you  are 
green,  to  have  been  there  all  this  time,  and  not 
found  that  out.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  does  just  what  he 
pleases  over  the    whole  farm  though  ;  hires  what 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD,  185 

help  he  wants,  manages  everything ;  and  then  he 
has  his  share  of  all  that  comes  off  it.  I  tell  you 
what — you'd  better  make  friends  with  Van  Brunt, 
for  if  anybody  can  help  you  when  your  aunt  gets 
one  of  her  ugly  fits,  it's  him;  she  don't  care  to 
meddle  with  him  much." 

Leaving  the  lane,  the  two  girls  took  a  footpath 
leading  across  the  fields.  The  stranger  was  greatly 
amused  here  with  Ellen's  awkwardness  in  climbing 
fences.  Where  it  was  a  possible  thing,  she  was  fain 
to  crawl  under  ;  but  once  or  twice  that  could  not 
be  done,  and  having  with  infinite  difficulty  mounted 
to  the  top  rail,  poor  Ellen  sat  there  in  a  most  tot- 
tering condition,  uncertain  on  which  side  of  the 
fence  she  should  tumble  over,  but  seeing  no  other 
possible  way  of  getting  down.  The  more  she 
trembled  the  more  her  companion  laughed,  standing 
aloof  meanwhile,  and  insisting  she  should  get  down 
by  herself.  Necessity  enabled  her  to  do  this  at 
last,  and  each  time  the  task  became  easier ;  but 
Ellen  secretly  made  up  her  mind  that  her  new 
friend  was  not  likely  to  prove  a  very  good  one. 

As  they  went  along,  she  pointed  out  to  Ellen  two 
or  three  houses  in  the  distance,  and  gave  her  not 
a  little  gossip  about  the  people  who  lived  in  them  ; 
but  all  this  Ellen  scarcely  heard,  and  cared  nothing 
at  all  about.  She  had  paused  by  the  side  of  a 
large  rock  standing  alone  by  the  wayside,  and  was 
looking  very  closely  at  its  surface. 

"What  is  this  curious  brown  stuff,"  said  Ellen, 

growing  all  over  the  rock  ? — like  shriveled  and 
dried-up  leaves  ?  Isn't  it  curious  ?  part  of  it  stands 
out  like  a  leaf,  and  part  of  it  sticks  fast ;  I  wonder 
if  it  grows  here,  or  what  it  is." 


1 86  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  the  other ;  "  it  always 
grows  on  the  rocks  everywhere  ;  I  don't  know  what 
it  is.  and,  what's  more,  I  don't  care.  'Tain't  worth 
looking  at.     Come  !  " 

Ellen  followed  her.  But  presently  the  path  en- 
tered an  open  woodland,  and  now  her  delight  broke 
forth  beyond  bounds. 

"  Oh,  how  pleasant  this  is  !  how  lovely  this  is  ! 
Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Isn't  what  beautiful  ?  I  do  think  you  are  the 
queerest  girl,  Ellen." 

"  Why,  everything,"  said  Ellen,  not  minding  the 
latter  part  of  the  sentence  ;  "  the  ground  is  beauti- 
ful, and  those  tall  trees,  and  that  beautiful  blue 
sky — only  look  at  it." 

"  The  ground  is  all  covered  with  stones  and 
rocks, — is  that  what  you  call  beautiful  ? — and  the 
trees  are  as  homely  as  they  can  be,  with  their  great 
brown  stems  and  no  leaves.  Come  ! — what  are  you 
staring  at  ? " 

Ellen's  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  string  of  dark  spots 
which  were  rapidly  passing  overhead. 

'"Hark!"  said  she  ;  "do  you  hear  that  noise? 
wh  it  is  that  ?    what  is  that  ?  " 

"  It's  only  a  flock  of  ducks,"  said  the  other,  con- 
temptuously ;  "  come  !  do  come  !  " 

But  Ellen  was  rooted  to  the  ground,  and  her  eyes 
followed  the  airy  travelers  till  the  last  one  had 
quitted  the  piece  of  blue  sky  which  the  surrounding 
woods  left  to  be  seen.  And  scarcely  were  these 
gone  when  a  second  flight  came  in  view,  following 
exactly  in  the  track  of  the  first. 

"  Where  are  thev  going  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know  where  they  are  going; 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  187 

they  never  told  me.  I  know  where  7"  am  going ;  I 
should  like  to  know  whether  you  are  going  along 
with  me." 

Ellen,  however,  was  in  no  hurry.  The  ducks  had 
disappeared,  but  her  eye  had  caught  something 
else  that  charmed  it. 

"What  is  this  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Nothing  but  moss." 

"  Is  that  moss  ?  How  beautiful !  how  green  and 
soft  it  is  !     I  declare  it's  as  soft  as  a  carpet." 

"  As  soft  as  a  carpet !  "  repeated  the  other  ;  "  I 
should  like  to  see  a  carpet  as  soft  as  that !  you 
never  did,  I  guess." 

"  Indeed  I  have,  though,"  said  Ellen,  who  was 
gently  jumping  up  and  down  on  the  green  moss  to 
try  its  softness,  with  a  face  of  great  satisfaction. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  a  bit,"  said  the  other ;  "  all 
the  carpets  I  ever  saw  were  as  hard  as  a  board, 
and  harder  ;  as  soft  as  that,  indeed  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  still  jumping  up  and  down, 
with  bonnet  off,  and  glowing  cheek,  and  hair  danc- 
ing about  her  face,  "you  may  believe  what  you 
like  ;  but  I've  seen  a  carpet  as  soft  as  this,,  and 
softer  too  ;  only  one,  though." 

"  What  was  it  made  of  ?  " 

"  What  other  carpets  are  made  of,  I  suppose. 
Come,  I'll  go  with  you  now.  I  do  think  this  is  the 
loveliest  place  I  ever  did  see.  Are  there  any 
flowers  here  in  the  spring  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — yes,  lots  of  'em." 

"  Pretty  ones  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  You'd  think  so,  I  suppose  ;  I  never  look  at 
'em." 

"  Oh,    how   lovely    that    will   be  !  "    said    Ellen, 


_*o8  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

clasping  her  hands  ;  "  how  pleasant  it  must  be  to 
live  in  the  country  !  " 

"  Pleasant,  indeed  !  "  said  the  other  ;  "  I  think 
it's  hatefuL — You'd  think  so,  too,  if  you  lived 
where  I  do.  It  makes  me  mad  at  granny  every 
day  because  she  won't  go  to  Thirlwall.  Wait  till 
we  get  out  of  the  wood,  and  I'll  show  you  where  I 
live.     You  can't  see  it  from  here." 

Shocked  a  little  at  her  companion's  language, 
Ellen  again  walked  on  in  sober  silence.  Gradu- 
ally the  ground  became  more  broken,  sinking  rap- 
idly from  the  side  of  the  path,  and  rising  again  in 
a  steep  bank  on  the  other  side  of  a  narrow  dell ; 
lx>th  sides  were  thickly  wooded,  but  stripped  of 
green,  now,  except  where  here  and  there  a  hem- 
lock flung  its  graceful  branches  abroad  and  stood 
in  lonely  beauty  among  its  leafless  companions. 
Now  the  gurgling  of  waters  was  heard. 

"  Where  is  that  ?  "  said  Ellen,  stopping  short. 

"  'Way  down,  down,  at  the  bottom  there.  It's 
the  brook." 

"  What  brook  ?  Not  the  same  that  goes  by 
Aunt  Fortune's  ? " 

"  Yes,  it's  the  very  same.  It's  the  crookedest 
thing  you  ever  saw.  It  runs  over  there,"  said  the 
speaker,  pointing  with  her  arm,  "  and  then  it  takes 
a  turn  and  goes  that  way,  and  then  it  comes  round 
so,  and  then  it  shoots  off  in  that  way  again  and 
passes  by  your  house  ;  and  after  that  the  dear 
knows  where  it  goes,  for  I  don't.  But  I  don't  sup- 
pose it  could  run  straight  if  it  was  to  try  to." 

"  Can't  we  get  down  to  it  ? "  asked  Ellen. 

;'  To  be  sure  we  can,  unless  you're  as  afraid  of 
steep  banks  as  you  are  of  fences." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  189 

Very  steep  indeed  it  was,  and  strewn  with  loose 
stones ;  but  Ellen  did  not  falter  here,  and  though 
once  or  twice  in  imminent  danger  of  exchanging 
her  cautious  stepping  for  one  long  roll  to  the  bot- 
tom, she  got  there  safely  on  her  two  feet.  When 
there,  everything  was  forgotten  in  delight.  It  was 
a  wild  little  place.  The  high,  close  sides  of  the 
dell  left  only  a  little  strip  of  sky  overhead  ;  and  at 
their  feet  ran  the  brook,  much  more  noisy  and 
lively  here  than  where  Ellen  had  before  made  its 
acquaintance  ;  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  eddying 
round  large  stones,  and  boiling  over  the  small 
ones,  and  now  and  then  pouring  quietly  over  some 
great  trunk  of  a  tree  that  had  fallen  across  its  bed 
and  dammed  up  the  whole  stream.  Ellen  could 
scarcely  contain  herself  at  the  magnificence  of 
many  of  the  water-falls,  the  beauty  of  the  little 
quiet  pools  where  the  water  lay  still  behind  some 
large  stone,  and  the  variety  of  graceful,  tiny 
cascades. 

"  Look  here,  Nancy  !  "  cried  Ellen,  "  that's  the 
Falls  of  Niagara — do  you  see  ? — that  large  one  ;  oh, 
that  is  splendid  !  And  this  will  do  for  Trenton 
Falls — what  a  fine  foam  it  makes — isn't  it  a 
beauty  ? — and  what  shall  we  call  this  ?  I  don't 
know  what  to  call  it ;  I  wish  we  could  name  them  all." 
But  there's  no  end  to  them.  Oh,  just  look  at  that 
one  !  that's  too  pretty  not  to  have  a  name  ;  what 
shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Black  Falls,"  suggested  the  other. 

"  Black,"  said  Ellen,  dubiously,  "why? — I  don't 
like  that." 

"  Why,  the  water's  all  dark  and  black,  don't  you 
see  ? " 


190  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

"Well,"  said  Ellen,  "let  it  be  Black,  then  ;  5mt  1 
don't  like  it.  Now  remember, — this  is  Niagara 
that  is  Black, — and  this  is  Trenton, — and  what  is 
this  ? " 

"  If  you  are  a-going  to  name  them  all,"  said 
Nancy,  "  we  sha'n't  get  home  to-night ;  you  might 
as  well  name  all  the  trees ;  there's  a  hundred  of 
'em,  and  more.  I  say,  Ellen  !  suppos'n  we  follow 
the  brook  instead  of  climbing  up  yonder  again  ;  it 
will  take  us  out  to  the  open  fields  by  and  by." 

"Oh,  do  let's!"  said  Ellen;  "that  will  be 
lovely." 

It  proved  a  rough  way ;  but  Ellen  still  thought 
and  called  it  "  lovely."  Often  by  the  side  of  the 
stream  there  was,  no  footing  at  all,  and  the  girls 
picked  their  way  over  the  stones,  large  and  small, 
wet  and  dry,  which  strewed  its  bed  ;  against  which 
the  water  foamed  and  fumed  and  fretted,  as  if  in 
great  impatience.  It  was  ticklish  work  getting 
along  over  these  stones ;  now  tottering  on  an 
unsteady  one  ;  now  slipping  on  a  wet  one  ; — and 
every  now  and  then  making  huge  leaps  from  rock 
to  rock,  which  there  was  no  other  method  of  reach- 
ing, at  the  imminent  hazard  of  falling  in.  But  they 
laughed  at  the  danger  ;  sprang  on  in  great  glee, 
delighted  with  the  exercise  and  the  fun  ;  didn't  stay 
long  enough  anywhere  to  lose  their  balance,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  amazingly.  There  was  many  a 
hair-breadth  escape  ;  many  an  almost  sousing ;  but 
that  made  it  all  the  more  lively.  The  brook 
formed,  as  Nancy  had  said,  a  constant  succession 
of  little  waterfalls,  its  course  being  quite  steep  and 
very  rocky;  and  in  some  places  there  were  pools 
quite  deep  enough  to  have  given    them  a  thorough 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


19* 


wetting,  to  say  no  more,  if  they  had  missed  their 
footing  and  tumbled  in.  But  this  did  not  happen. 
In  due  time,  though  with  no  little  difficuly,  they 
reached  the  spot  where  the  brook  came  forth  from 
the  wood  into  the  open  day,  and  thence  making  a 
sharp  turn  to  the  right,  skirted  along  by  the  edge  of 
the  trees,  as  if  unwilling  to  part  company  with  them. 
"  I  guess  we'd  better  get  back  into  the  lane  now,'1' 
said  Miss  Nancy,  "  we're  a  pretty  good  long  way 
from  home." 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Behind  the  door  stand  bags  o'  meal, 

And  in  the  ark  is  plenty. 
And  good  hard  cakes  his  mither  makes, 

And  mony  a  sweeter  dainty. 
A  good  fat  sow,  a  sleeky  cow, 

Are  standing  in  the  byre  ; 
While  winking  puss,  wi'  mealy  mou, 

Is  playing  round  the  fire. 

Scotch  Song. 

They  left  the  wood  and  the  brook  behind  them, 
and  crossed  a  large  stubble-field ;  then  got  over  a 
fence  into  another.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  this 
when  Nancy  stopped  Ellen,  and  bade  her  look  up 
toward  the  west,  where  towered  a  high  mountain, 
no  longer  hid  from  their  view  by  the  trees. 

"  I  told  you  I'd  show  you  where  I  live,"  said  she. 
"  Look  up  now, — clear  to  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
almost,  and  a  little  to  the  right ; — do  you  see  that 
little  mite  of  a  house  there  ?  Look  sharp, — it's 
a'most  as  brown  as  the  rock, — do  you  see  it  ? — it's 
close  by  that  big  pine-tree,  but  it  don't  look  big 
from  here — it's  just  by  that  little  dark  spot  near  the 
top?" 

"  I  see  it,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  see  it  now  ;  do  you 
live,  'way  up  there  ?  " 


1 92  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  That's  just  what  I  do  ;  and  that's  just  what  I 
wish  I  didn't.  But  granny  likes  it ;  she  will  live  there. 
I'm  blessed  if  I  know  what  for,  if  it  ain't  to  plague 
me.  Do  you  think  you'd  like  to  live  up  on  the  top 
of  a  mountain  like  that  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  should,"  said  Ellen.  "Isn't 
it  very  cold  up  there  ?  " 

"  Cold  !  you  don't  know  anything  about  it.  The 
wind  comes  there  I  tellyou  !  enough  to  cut  you  in  two ; 
I  have  to  take  and  hold  on  to  the  trees  sometimes 
to  keep  from  being  blowed  away.  And  then  granny 
sends  me  out  every  morning  before  it's  light,  no 
matter  how  deep  the  snow  is,  to  look  for  the  cow; 
— and  it's  so  bitter  cold  I  expect  nothing  else  but 
I'll  be  froze  to  death  some  time." 

"  Oh,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  look  of  horror,  "  how 
can  she  do  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  don't  care,"  said  the  other  ;  "  she  sees 
my  nose  freeze  off  every  winter,  and  it  don't  make 
no  difference." 

"  Freeze  your  nose  off  !  "   said  Elien. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  other,  nodding  gravely — 
"  every  winter ;  it  grows  out  again  when  the  warm 
weather  comes." 

"  And  is  that  the  reason  why  it  is  so  little  ?  "  said 
Ellen,  innocently,  and  with  great  curiosity. 

"  Little  !  "  said  the  other,  crimsoning  in  a  fury, — > 
"  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  it's  as  big  as  yours 
any  day,  I  can  tell  you." 

Ellen  involuntarily  put  her  hand  to  her  face,  to 
see  if  Nancy  spoke  true.  Somewhat  reassured  to 
find  a  very  decided  ridge  where  her  companion's 
nose  was  rather  wanting  in  the  line  of  beauty,  she 
answered  in  her  turn, — 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  V±\ 

"  It's  no  such  thing,  Nancy !  you  oughtn't  to  say 
so  ;  you  know  better." 

"  I  don't  know  better  !  I  ought  to  say  so  !  "  replied 
the  other,  furiously.  "  If  I  had  your  nose,  I'd  be 
glad  to  have  it  freeze  off ;  I'd  a  sight  rather  have 
none.  I'd  pull  it  every  day,  if  I  was  you,  to  make 
it  grow." 

"  I  shall  believe  what  Aunt  Fortune  said  of  you 
was  true,"  said  Ellen.  She  had  colored  very  high, 
but  she  added  no  more  and  walked  on  in  dignified 
silence.  Nancy  stalked  before  her  in  silence  that 
was  meant  to  be  dignified  too,  though  it  had  not 
exactly  that  air.  By  degrees  each  cooled  down, 
and  Nancy  was  trying  to  find  out  what  Miss  Fort- 
une had  said  of  her,  when  on  the  edge  of  the  next 
field  they  met  the  brook  again.  After  running  a 
long  way  to  the  right,  it  had  swept  round,  and  here 
was  flowing  gently  in  the  opposite  direction.  But 
how  were  they  ever  to  cross  it  ?  The  brook  ran  in 
a  smooth  current  between  them  and  a  rising  bank 
on  the  other  side,  so  high  as  to  prevent  their  seeing 
what  lay  beyond.  There  were  no  stepping-stones 
now.  The  only  thing  that  looked  like  a  bridge  was 
an  old  log  that  had  fallen  across  the  brook,  or  per- 
haps had  at  some  time  or  other  been  put  there  on 
purpose  ;  and  that  lay  more  than  half  in  the  water; 
what  remained  of  its  surface  was  green  with  moss 
and  slippery  with  slime.  Ellen  was  sadly  afraid  to 
trust  herself  on  it ;  but  what  to  do  ? — Nancy  soon 
settled  the  question  as  far  as  she  was  concerned. 
Pulling  off  her  thick  shoes,  she  ran  fearlessly  upon 
the  rude  bridge  ;  her  clinging  bare  feet  carried  her 
safely  over,  and  Ellen  soon  saw  her  re-shoeing  her- 
self in  triumph  on  the  opposite  side  ;  but  thus  left 
behind  and  alone,  her  own  difficulty  increased. 


I94  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD, 

"  Pull  off  your  shoes,  and  do  as  I  did,"  said 
Nancy. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Ellen ;  "I'm  afraid  of  wetting 
my  feet ;  I  know  mamma  wouldn't  let  me." 

"  Afraid  of  wetting  your  feet !  "  said  the  other ; 
'"  what  a  chickaninny  you  are  !  Well,  if  you  try  to 
come  over  with  your  shoes  on  you'll  fall  in,  I  tell 
you  ;  and  then  you'll  wet  more  than  your  feet.  But 
come  along  somehow,  for  I  won't  stand  waiting 
here  much  longer." 

Thus  urged,  Ellen  set  out  upon  her  perilous 
journey  over  the  bridge.  Slowly  and  fearfully,  and 
with  as  much  care  as  possible,  she  set  step  by  step 
upon  the  slippery  log.  Already  half  of  the  danger 
was  passed,  when,  reaching  forward  to  grasp  Nancy's 
outstretched  hand,  she  missed  it, — -perhaps  that  was 
Nancy's  fault, — poor  Ellen  lost  her  balance  and 
went  in  head  foremost.  The  water  was  deep 
enough  to  cover  her  completely  as  she  lay,  though 
not  enough  to  prevent  her  getting  up  again.  She 
Was  greatly  frightened,  but  managed  to  struggle 
Up  first  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  then  to  her  feet, 
and  then  to  wade  out  to  the  shore ;  though,  dizzy 
and  sick,  she  came  near  falling  back  again  more  than 
once.  The  water  was  very  cold  ;  and,  thoroughly 
sobered,  poor  Ellen  felt  chill  enough  in  body  and 
mind  too ;  all  her  fine  spirits  were  gone ;  and  not 
the  less  because  Nancy's  had  risen  to  a  great  pitch 
of  delight  at  her  misfortune.  The  air  rang  with 
her  laughter  ;  she  likened  Ellen  to  every  ridiculous 
thing  she  could  think  of.  Too  miserable  to  be 
angry,  Ellen  could  not  laugh,  and  would  not  cry, 
but  she  exclaimed  in  distress, — 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  !     I  am  so  cold !  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


195 


"  Come  along,"  said  Nancy  ;  "  give  me  your 
hand  ;  we'll  run  right  over  to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, — ■ 
'tain't  far — it's  just  over  here.  There,"  said  she, 
as  they  got  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  came  within 
sight  of  a  house  standing  only  a  few  fields  off,— 
"  there  it  is  !  Run,  Ellen,  and  we'll  be  there 
directly." 

"  Who  is  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  ?  "  Ellen  contrived  to 
say,  as  Nancy  hurried  her  along. 

"  Who  is  she  ? — run,  Ellen  ! — why,  she's  just 
Mrs.  Van  Brunt — your  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  mother, 
you  know, — make  haste,  Ellen — we  had  rain  enough 
the  other  day  ;  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  good  for 
the  grass  if  you  stayed  too  long  in  one  place  ;— 
hurry  !  I'm  afraid  you'll  catch  cold, — you  got  your 
feet  wet  after  all,  I'm  sure." 

Run  they  did ;  and  a  few  minutes  brought  them 
to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  door.  The  little  brick  walk 
leading  to  it  from  the  courtyard  gate  was  neat  as  a 
pin  ;  so  was  everything  else  the  eye  could  rest  on  ; 
and  when  Nancy  went  in  poor  Ellen  stayed  heriooX 
at  the  door,  unwilling  to  carry  her  wet  shoes  and 
dripping  garments  any  further.  She  could  hear, 
however,  what  was  going  on. 

"Hillo!  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,"  shouted  Nancy, — 
"  where  are  you  ? — oh  ! — Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  are  you 
out  of  water  ? — 'cos  if  you  are  I've  brought  you  a 
plenty ;  the  person  that  has  it  don't  want  it ;  she's 
just  at  the  door ;  she  wouldn't  bring  it  in  till  she 
knew  you  wanted  it.  Oh,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  don't 
look  so  or  you'll  kill  me  with  laughing.  Come  and 
see  !  come  and  see." 

The  steps  within  drew  near  the  door,  and  first 
Nancy  showed  herself,  and  then  a  little  old  woman, 


ig&  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

not  very  old  either,  of  very  kind,  pleasant  com* 
tenance. 

"  What  is  all  this  ?  "  said  she,  in  great  surprise. 
"  Bless  me  !  poor  little  dear  !  what  is  this  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  but  a  drowned  rat,  Mrs. 
Van  Brunt,  don't  you  see  ? "  said  Nancy. 

"  Go  home,  Nancy  Vawse  !  go  home,"  said  the 
old  lady  ;  "  you're  a  regular  bad  girl.  1  do  believe 
this  is  some  mischief  o'  yourn,  go  right  off  home  ; 
it's  time  you  were  after  your  cow  a  great  while 
ago." 

As  she  spoke,  she  drew  Ellen  in,  and  shut  the 
door. 

"Poor  little  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  kindly, 
"  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  Come  to  the  fire, 
love,  you're  trembling  with  the  cold.  Oh,  dear, 
dear  !  you're  soaking  wet ;  this  is  all  along  of  Nancy 
somehow,  I  know ;  how  was  it,  love  ?  Ain't  you 
Miss  Fortune's  little  girl  ?  Never  mind,  don't  talk, 
darling ;  there  ain't  one  bit  of  color  in  your  face, 
not  one  bit." 

Good  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  had  drawn  Ellen  to  the 
fire,  and  all  this  while  she  was  pulling  off  as  fast  as 
possible  her  wet  clothes.  Then  sending  a  girl  who 
was  in  waiting  for  clean  towels,  she  rubbed  Ellen  dry 
from  head  to  foot,  and  wrapping  her  in  a  blanket, 
left  her  in  a  chair  before  the  fire,  while  she  went  to 
seek  something  for  her  to  put  on.  Ellen  had  man- 
aged to  tell  who  she  was,  and  how  her  mischance 
had  come  about,  but  little  else,  though  the  kind  old 
lady  had  kept  on  pouring  out  words  of  sorrow  and 
pity  during  the  whole  time.  She  came  trotting 
back  directly  with  one  of  her  own  short  gowns,  the 
only  thing  that  she  could  lay  hands  on  that  was  any- 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD  197 

where  near  Ellen's  length.  Enormously  big  it  waa 
for  her,  but  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  wrapped  it  round  and 
round,  and  the  blanket  over  it  again,  and  then  she 
bustled  about  till  she  had  prepared  a  tumbler  of  hot 
drink,  which  she  said  was  to  keep  Ellen  from  catch- 
ing cold.  It  was  anything  but  agreeable,  being 
made  from  some  bitter  herb,  and  sweetened  with 
molasses ;  but  Ellen  swallowed  it,  as  she  would 
anything  else  at  such  kind  hands,  and  the  old  lady 
carried  her  herself  into  a  little  room  opening  out  of 
the  kitchen,  and  laid  her  in  a  bed  that  had  been 
warmed  for  her.  Excessively  tired  and  weak  as 
she  was,  Ellen  scarcely  needed  the  help  of  the  hot 
herb  tea  to  fall  into  a  very  deep  sleep ;  perhaps  it 
might  not  have  lasted  so  very  long  as  it  did,  but  for 
that.  Afternoon  changed  for  evening,  evening  grew 
quite  dark,  still  Ellen  did  not  stir ;  and  after  every 
little  journey  into  the  bedroom  to  see  how  she  was 
doing,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  came  back  saying  how  glad 
she  was  to  see  her  sleeping  so  finely.  Other  eyes 
looked  on  her  for  a  minute, — kind  and  gentle  eyes  ; 
though  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  were  kind  and  gentle  too; 
once  a  soft  kiss  touched  her  forehead,  there  was  no 
danger  of  waking  her. 

It  was  perfectly  dark  in  the  little  bedroom,  and 
had  been  so  a  good  while,  when  Ellen  was  aroused 
by  some  noise,  and  then  a  rough  voice  she  knew 
very  well.  Feeling  faint  and  weak,  and  not  more 
than  half  awake  yet,  she  lay  still  and  listened.  She 
heard  the  outer  door  opened  and  shut,  and  then 
the  voice  said, 

"  So,  mother,  you've  got  my  stray  sheep  here, 
have  you  ? " 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Van   Brunt, 


igS  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD 

"  have  you  been  looking  for  her  ?  how  did  you 
know  she  was  here  ?  " 

"  Looking  for  her  !  ay,  looking  for  her  ever  since 
sundown.  She  has  been  missing  at  the  house  since 
some  time  this  forenoon.  I  believe  her  aunt  got  a 
bit  scared  about  her ;  anyhow  I  did.  She's  a 
queer  little  chip  as  ever  I  see." 

"  She's  a  dear  little  soul,  /know,"  said  his  mother ; 
"  you  needn't  say  nothin'  agin'  her,  I  ain't  a-going 
to  believe  it." 

"  No  more  am  I — I'm  the  best  friend  she's  got  if 
she  only  knowed  it ;  but  don't  you  think,"  said  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  laughing,  "  I  asked  her  to  give  me  a 
kiss  this  forenoon,  and  if  I'd  been  an  owl  she 
couldn't  ha'  been  more  scared ;  she  went  off  like  a 
streak,  and  Miss  Fortune  said  she  was  as  mad  as 
she  could  be,  and  that's  the  last  of  her." 

"  How  did  you  find  her  out  ? " 

"  I  met  that  mischievous  Vawse  girl,  and  I  made 
her  tell  me  ;  she  had  no  mind  to  at  first.  It'll  be 
the  worse  for  Ellen  if  she  takes  to  that  wicked  thing." 

"  She  won't.  Nancy  had  been  taking  her  a  walk, 
and  worked  it  so  as  to  get  her  into  the  brook,  and 
then  she  brought  her  here,  just  as  dripping  wet 
as  she  could  be.  I  gave  her  something  hot  and 
put  her  to  bed,  and  she'll  do,  I  reckon ;  but  I  tell 
you  it  gave  me  queer  feelings  to  see  the  poor  little 
thing  just  as  white  as  ashes,  and  all  of  a  tremble, 
and  looking  so  sorrowful  too.  She's  sleeping 
finely  now  ;  but  it  ain't  right  to  see  a  child's  face 
look  so; — it  ain't  right,"  repeated  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, 
thoughtfully. — "  You  ha'n't  had  supper,  have  you  ? " 

"  No,  mother,  and  I  must  take  that  young  one 
back.     Ain't  she  awake  yet  ?  " 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  199 

"I'll  see  directly;  but  she  ain't  going  home, 
nor  you  neither,  'Brahm,  till  you've  got  your  supper ; 
it  would  be  a  sin  to  let  her.  She  shall  have  a 
taste  of  my  splitters  this  very  night;  I've  been 
makin'  them  o'  purpose  for  her.  So  you  may  just 
take  off  your  hat  and  sit  down." 

"  You  mean  to  let  her  know  where  to  come  when 
she  wants  good  things,  mother.  Well,  I  won't  say 
splitters  ain't  worth  waiting  for." 

Ellen  heard  him  sit  down,  and  then  she  guessed 
from  the  words  that  passed  that  Mrs.  Van  Brunt 
and  her  little  maid  were  busied  in  baking  the  cakes  ; 
she  lay  quiet. 

"  You're  a  good  friend,  'Brahm,"  began  the  old 
lady  again,  "  nobody  knows  that  better  than  me ; 
but  I  hope  that  poor  little  thing  has  got  another 
one  to-day  that'll  do  more  for  her  than  you  can." 

"  What,  vourself,  mother  ?  I  don't  know  about 
that." 

"  No,  no  ;  do  you  think  I  mean  myself  ? — there, 
turn  it  quick,  Sally  ! — Miss  Alice  has  been  here." 

"  How  ?  this  evening  ?  " 

"Just  a  little  before  dark,  on  her  gray  pony. 
She  came  in  for  a  minute,  and  I  took  her — that'll 
burn,  Sally  ! — I  took  her  in  to  see  the  child  while 
she  was  asleep,  and  I  told  her  all  you  told  me 
about  her.  She  didn't  say  much,  but  she  looked 
at  her  very  sweet,  as  she  always  does,  and  I  guess, 
— there — now  I'll  see  after  my  little  sleeper." 

And  presently  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  came  to  the  bed- 
side with  a  light,  and  her  arm  full  of  Ellen's  dry 
clothes.  Ellen  felt  as  if  she  could  have  put  her 
arms  round  her  kind  old  friend  and  hugged  her 
with  all  her  heart ;  but  it  was  not  her  way  to  show 


200  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

her  feelings  before  strangers.  She  suffered  Mrs. 
Van  Brunt  to  dress  her  in  silence,  only  saying  with 
a  sigh,  "  How  kind  you  are  to  me,  ma'am  !  "  to 
which  the  old  lady  replied  with  a  kiss,  and  telling 
her  she  mustn't  say  a  word  about  that. 

The  kitchen  was  bright  with  firelight  and  candle- 
light ;  the  tea-table  looked  beautiful  with  its  piles 
of  white  splitters,  besides  plenty  of  other  and  more 
substantial  things ;  and  at  the  corner  of  the  hearth 
sat  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  So,"  said  he,  smiling,  as  Ellen  came  in  and 
took  her  stand  at  the  opposite  corner, — "  so  I  drove 
you  away  this  morning  ?  You  ain't  mad  with  me 
yet,  I  hope." 

Ellen  crossed  directly  over  to  him,  and  putting 
her  little  hand  in  his  great  rough  one,  said,  "  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  for  tak- 
ing so  much  trouble  to  come  and  look  after  me." 

She  said  it  with  a  look  of  gratitude  and  trust 
that  pleased  him  very  much. 

"  Trouble,  indeed  ! "  said  he,  good-humoredly, 
"  I'd  take  twice  as  much  any  day  for  what  you 
wouldn't  give  me  this  forenoon.  But  never  fear, 
Miss  Ellen,  I  ain't  a-going  to  ask  you  that  again." 

He  shook  the  little  hand ;  and  from  that  time 
Ellen  and  her  rough  charioteer  were   firm  friends. 

Mrs.  Van  Brunt  now  summoned  them  to  table ; 
and  Ellen  was  well  feasted  with  the  splitters, 
which  were  a  kind  of  rich  short-cake  baked  in  irons, 
very  thin  and  crisp,  and  then  split  in  two  and 
buttered,  whence  their  name.  A  pleasant  mea! 
was  that.  Whatever  an  epicure  might  have  thought 
of  the  tea,  to  Ellen  in  her  famished  state  it  was 
delicious ;  and  no   epicure  could  have  found  fault 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  201 

%  th  the  cold  ham  and  the  butter  and  the  cakes ; 
b»*t  far  better  than  all  was  the  spirit  of  kindness 
that  was  there.  Ellen  feasted  on  that  more  than 
on  anything  else.  If  her  host  and  hostess  were 
not  very  polished,  they  could  not  have  been  out- 
done in  their  kind  care  of  her  and  kind  attention 
to  her  wants.  And  when  the  supper  was  at  length 
over,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  declared  a  little  color  had 
come  back  to  the  pale  cheeks.  The  color  came 
back  in  good  earnest  a  few  minutes  after,  when  a 
great  tortoise-shell  cat  walked  into  the  room.  Ellen 
jumped  down  from  her  chair,  and  presently  was 
bestowing  the  tenderest  caresses  upon  pussy,  who 
stretched  out  her  head  and  purred  as  if  she  liked 
them  very  well. 

'*  What  a  nice  cat !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  She  has  five  kittens,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt. 

"Five  kittens  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  Oh,  may  I  come 
some  time  and  see  them  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see  'em  right  away,  dear,  and  come 
as  often  as  you  like  too.  Sally,  just  take  a  basket, 
and  go  fetch  them  kittens  here." 

Upon  this,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  began  to  talk  about 
its  being  time  to  go,  if  they  were  going.  But  his 
mother  insisted  that  Ellen  should  stay  where  she 
was ;  she  said  she  was  not  fit  to  go  home  that 
night,  that  she  oughtn't  to  walk  a  step,  and  that 
'Brahm  should  go  and  tell  Miss  Fortune  the  child 
was  safe  and  well  and  would  be  with  her  early  in 
the  morning.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  shook  his  head  two 
or  three  times,  but  finally  agreed,  to  Ellen's  great 
joy.  When  he  came  back,  she  was  sitting  on  the 
floor  before  the  fire,  with  all  the  five  kittens  in  her 
lap,  and  the  old  mother  cat  walking  around   and 


202  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

over  her  and  them.  But  she  looked  up  with  a 
happier  face  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  wear,  and 
told  him  she  was  "  so  much  obliged  to  him  for  tak- 
ing such  a  long  walk  for  her  ;  "  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
felt  that,  like  his  oxen,  he  could  have  done  a  great 
deal  more  with  pleasure. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

It's  hardly  in  a  body's  pow'r 
To  keep  at  times  frae.being  sour. 

Burns. 

Before  the  sun  was  up  the  next  morning,  Mrs. 
Van  Brunt  came  into  Ellen's  room  and  aroused 
her. 

"  It's  a  real  shame  to  wake  you  up,"  she  said, 
"  when  you  were  sleeping  so  finely ;  but  'Brahm 
wants  to  be  off  to  his  work,  and  won't  stay  for 
breakfast.     Slept  sound,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  ;  as  sound  as  a  top,"  said  Ellen, 
rubbing  her  eyes  ; — "  I  am  hardly  awake  yet." 

"  I  declare  it's  too  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, — 
"but  there's  no  help  for  it.  You  don't  feel  no 
headache,  do  you,  nor  pain  in  your  bones  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  not  a  bit  of  it ;  I  feel  nicely." 

"  Ah  !  well,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  "  then  your 
tumble  into  the  brook  didn't  do  you  any  mischief  ;  I 
thought  it  wouldn't.     Poor  little  soul !  " 

"  I  am  very  glad  I  did  fall  in,"  said  Ellen,  "  for 
if  I  hadn't  I  shouldn't  have  come  here,  Mrs,  Van 
Brunt." 

The  old  lady  instantly  kissed  her. 

"  0  !  mayn't  I  just  takeone  look  at  the  kitties?  " 
said  Ellen,  when  she  was  ready  to  go. 

u  Indeed  you  shall,"   said   Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  **  if 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  203 

'Brahm's  hurry  was  ever  so  much ; — and  it  ain't, 
besides.     Come  here,  dear." 

She  took  Ellen  back  to  a  waste  lumber-room, 
where  in  a  corner,  on  some  old  pieces  of  carpet, 
lay  pussy  and  her  family.  How  fondly  Ellen's 
hand  was  passed  over  each  little  soft  back !  how 
hard  it  was  for  her  to  leave  them  ! 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  take  one  home  with  you 
dear  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  at  length. 

"  Oh  !  may  I  ?  "  said  Ellen,  looking  up  in  de- 
light ;  "  are  you  in  earnest  ?  Oh,  thank  you,  dear 
Mrs.  Van  Brunt !     Oh,  I  shall  be  so  glad  !  " 

"  Well,  choose  one,  then,  dear, — choose  the  one 
you  like  best,  and  'Brahm  shall  carry  it  for  you." 

The  choice  was  made,  and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  and 
Ellen  returned  to  the  kitchen,  where  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
had  already  been  waiting  some  time.  He  shook 
his  head  when  he  saw  what  was  in  the  basket  his 
mother  handed  to  him. 

"  That  won't  do,"  said  he ;  "I  can't  go  that, 
mother.  I'll  undertake  to  see  Miss  Ellen  safe 
home,  but  the  cat  'ud  be  more  than  I  could  man- 
age. I  think  I'd  hardly  get  off  with  a  whole  skin 
'tween  the  one  and  t'other. " 

"  Well,  now !  "  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt. 

Ellen  gave  a  longing  look  at  her  little  black  and 
white  favorite,  which  was  uneasily  endeavoring  to 
find  out  the  height  of  the  basket,  and  mewing  at 
the  same  time  with  a  most  ungratified  expression. 
However,  though  sadly  disappointed,  she  submitted 
with  a  very  good  grace  to  what  could  not  be  helped. 
First  setting  down  the  little  cat  out  of  the  basket  it 
seemed  to  like  so  ill,  and  giving  it  one  farewell  pat 
and  squeeze,  she  turned  to  the  kind  old  lady  who 


204  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

stood  watching  her,  and  throwing  her  arms  around 
her  neck,  silently  spoke  her  gratitude  in  a  hearty 
hug  and  kiss. 

"  Good-bye,  ma'am,"  said  she  ;  "  I  may  come  and 
see  them  sometime  again,  and  see  you,  mayn't  I  ? " 

"  Indeed  you  shall,  my  darling,"  said  the  old 
woman,  "just  as  often  as  you  like; — just  as  often 
as  you  can  get  away.  I'll  make  'Brahm  bring  you 
home  sometimes.  'Brahm,  you'll  bring  her,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  There's  two  words  to  that  bargain,  mother,  I 
can  tell  you ;  but  if  I  don't,  I'll  know  the  reason 
on't." 

And  away  they  went.  Ellen  drew  two  or  three 
sighs  at  first,  but  she  could  not  help  brightening 
up  soon.  It  was  early — not  sunrise  ;  the  cool 
freshness  of  the  air  was  enough  to  give  one  new 
life  and  spirit ;  the  sky  was  fair  and  bright ;  and 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  marched  along  at  a  quick  pace. 
Enlivened  by  the  exercise,  Ellen  speedily  forgot 
everything  disagreeable  ;  and  her  little  head  was 
filled  with  pleasant  things.  She  watched  where 
the  silver  light  in  the  east  foretold  the  sun's  com- 
ing. She  watched  the  silver  change  to  gold,  till  a 
rich  yellow  tint  was  flung  over  the  whole  landscape  ; 
and  then  broke  the  first  rays  of  light  upon  the  tops 
of  the  western  hills, — the  sun  was  up.  It  was  a 
new  sight  to  Ellen. 

"  How  beautiful !  Oh,  how  beautiful !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  in  his  slow  way  ; 
"  it'll  be  a  fine  day  for  the  field.  I  guess  I'll  go 
with  the  oxen  over  to  that  'ere  big  meadow." 

"  Just  look,"   said  Ellen,  "  how  the  light  comes 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  205 

creeping  down  the  side  of  the  mountain, — now  it 
has  got  to  the  wood, — Oh,  do  look  at  the  tops  of 
the  trees  !     Oh  !  I  wish  mamma  was  here." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  didn't  know  what  to  say  to  this. 
He  rather  wished  so  too,  for  her  sake. 

"There,"  said  Ellen,  "now  the  sunshine  is  on 
the  fence,  and  the  road,  and  everything.  I  wonder 
what  is  the  reason  that  the  sun  shines  first  upon  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  and,  then  comes  so  slowly 
down  the  side ;  why  don't  it  shine  on  the  whole  at 
once  ?  " 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  shook  his  head  in  ignorance, 
"  He  guessed  it  always  did  so,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Ellen,  "I  suppose  it  does,  but  that's 
the  very  thing, — I  want  to  know  the  reason  why. 
And  I  noticed  just  now,  it  shone  in  my  face  before 
it  touched  my  hands.     Isn't  it  queer  ?  " 

"  Humph ! — there's  a  great  'many  queer  things, 
if  you  come  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  philoso- 
phically. 

But  Ellen's  head  ran  on  from  one  thing  to 
another,  and  her  next  question  was  not  so  wide  of 
the  subject  as  her  companion  might  have  thought. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  are  there  any  schools  about 
here  ? " 

"  Schools  ?  "  said  the  person  addressed,  "  yes — 
there's  plenty  of  schools." 

"  Good  ones  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  that ;  there's 
Captain  Conklin's  that  had  ought  to  be  agood'un; 
he's  a  regular  smart  man,  they  say." 

"  Whereabouts  is  that  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  His  school  ?  it's  a  mile  or  so  the  other  side  of 
my  house." 


2o6  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  And  how  far  is  it  from  your  house  to  Aunt 
Fortune's  ? " 

"  A  good  deal  better  than  two  mile,  but  we'll  be 
there  before  long.     You  ain't  tired,  be  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen.  But  this  reminder  gave  a 
new  turn  to  her  thoughts,  and  her  spirits  were 
suddenly  checked.  Her  former  brisk  and  spring- 
ing step  changed  to  so  slow  and  lagging  a  one,  that 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  more  than  once  repeated  his  remark 
that  he  saw  she  was  tired. 

If  it  was  that,  Ellen  grew  tired  very  fast ;  she 
lagged  more  and  more  as  they  neared  the  house, 
and  at  last  quite  fell  behind,  and  allowed  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  to  go  in  first. 

Miss  Fortune  was  busy  about  the  breakfast,  and 
as  Mr.  Van  Brunt  afterwards  described  it,  "  looked 
as  if  she  could  have  bitten  off  a  tenpenny  nail," 
and  indeed  as  if  the  operation  would  have  been 
rather  gratifying  than  otherwise.  She  gave  them  no 
notice  at  first,  bustling  to  and  fro  with  great  energy, 
but  all  of  a  sudden  she  brought  up  directly  in  front 
of  Ellen,  and  said, 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  home  last  night  ?" 

The  words  were  jerked  out  rather  than  spoken. 

"  I  got  wet  in  the  brook,"  said  Ellen.  "  and  Mrs. 
Van  Brunt  was  so  kind  as  to  keep  me." 

"Which  way  did  you  go  out  of  the  house  yester- 
day?" 

"  Through  the  front  door." 

"  The  front  door  was  locked." 

"  I  unlocked  it." 

"What  did  you  go  out  that  way  for  ?  n 

"  I  didn't  want  to  come  this  way." 

"Why  not?" 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  207 

Ellen  hesitated. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Fortune,  still  more, 
emphatically  than  before. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  see  you,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen; 
flushing. 

"  If  ever  you  do  so  again  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune, 
in  a  kind  of  cold  fury  ;  "  I've  a  great  mind  to  whip 
you  for  this,  as  ever  I  had  to  eat." 

The  flush  faded  on  Ellen's  cheek,  and  a  shiver 
visibly  passed  over  her — not  from  fear.  She  stood 
with  downcast  eyes  and  compressed  lips,  a  certain 
instinct  of  childish  dignity  warning  her  to  be  silent. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  put  himself  in  between. 

"  Come,  come  !  "  said  he,  "  this  is  getting  to  be 
too  much  of  a  good  thing.  Beat  your  cream, 
ma'am,  as  much  as  you  like,  or  if  you  want  to  try 
your  hand  on  something  else,  you'll  have  to  take 
me  first,  I  promise  you." 

"  Now  don't  you  meddle,  Van  Brunt,"  said  the 
lady,  sharply,  "with  what  ain't  no  business  o" 
yourn. " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
— "  maybe  it  is  my  business  ;  but  meddle  or  no 
meddle,  Miss  Fortune,  it  is  time  for  me  to  be  in 
the  field  ;  and  if  you  ha'n't  no  better  breakfast  for 
Miss  Ellen  and  me  than  all  this  here,  we'll  just  go 
right  away  hum  again ;  but  there's  something  in 
your  kettle  there  that  smells  uncommonly  nice,  and 
I  wish  you'd  just  let  us  have  it  and  no  more 
words." 

No  more  words  did  Miss  Fortune  waste  on  any 
one  that  morning.  She  went  on  with  her  work  and 
dished  up  the  breakfast  in  silence,  and  with  a  face 
that  Ellen  did  not  quite  understand ;  only  she  thought 


2o8  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

she  had  never  in  her  life  seen  one  so  disagreeable. 
The  meal  was  a  very  solemn  and  uncomfortable 
one.  Ellen  could  scarcely  swallow,  and  her  aunt 
Was  near  in  the  same  condition.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
and  the  old  lady  alone  dispatched  their  breakfast 
as  usual ;  with  no  other  attempts  at  conversation 
than  the  common  mumbling  on  the  part  of  the 
latter,  which  nobody  minded,  and  one  or  two  strange 
grunts  from  the  former,  the  meaning  of  which,  if 
they  had  any,  nobody  tried  to  find  out. 

There  was  a  breach  now  between  Ellen  and  her 
aunt  that  neither  could  make  any  effort  to  mend. 
Miss  Fortune  did  not  renew  the  disagreeable  con- 
versation that  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  broken  off ;  she 
left  Ellen  entirely  to  herself,  scarcely  speaking  to 
her,  or  seeming  to  know  when  she  went  out  or 
Came  in.  And  this  lasted  day  after  day.  Wearily 
they  passed.  After  one  or  two,  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
seemed  to  stand  just  where  he  did  before  in  Miss 
Fortune's  good  graces; — but  not  Ellen.  To  her, 
when  others  were  not  by,  her  face  wore  constantly 
Something  of  the  same  cold,  hard,  disagreeable  ex- 
pression it  had  put  on  after  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  in- 
terference,— a  look  that  Ellen  came  to  regard  with 
absolute  abhorrence.  She  kept  away  by  herself  as 
much  as  she  could ;  but  she  did  not  know  what  to 
do  with  her  time,  and  for  want  of  something  better 
often  spent  it  in  tears.  She  went  to  bed  cheerless 
night  after  night,  and  arose  spiritless  morning  after 
morning,  and  this  lasted  till  Mr.  Van  Brunt  more 
than  once  told  his  mother  that  "  that  poor  little 
thing  was  going  wandering  about  like  a  ghost, 
and  growing  thinner  and  paler  every  day;  and  he 
didn't  know  what  she  would  come  to  if  she  went 
on  so." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  209 

Ellen  longed  now  for  a  letter  with  unspeakable 
longing, — but  none  came  ;  day  after  day  brought 
new  disappointment,  each  day  more  hard  to  bear. 
Of  her  only  friend,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  she  saw  little ; 
he  was  much  away  in  the  fields  during  the  fine 
weather,  and  when  it  rained  Ellen  herself  was  pris- 
oner at  home,  whither  he  never  came  but  at  meal- 
times. The  old  grandmother  was  very  much  dis- 
posed to  make  much  of  her  ;  but  Ellen  shrank,  she 
hardly  knew  why,  from  her  fond  caresses,  and  never 
found  herself  alone  with  her  if  she  could  help  it; 
for  then  she  was  regularly  called  to  the  old  lady's 
side  and  obliged  to  go  through  a  course  of  kissing, 
fondling  and  praising  she  would  gladly  have  escaped. 
In  her  aunt's  presence  this  was  seldom  attempted, 
and  never  permitted  to  go  on.  Miss  Fortune  was 
sure  to  pull  Ellen  away  and  bid  her  mother  "  stop 
that  palavering," — avowing  that  "  it  made  her  sick." 
Ellen  had  one  faint  hope  that  her  aunt  would  think 
of  sending  her  to  school,  as  she  employed  her  in 
nothing  at  home,  and  certainly  took  small  delight 
in  her  company ;  but  no  hint  of  the  kind  dropped 
from  Miss  Fortune's  lips  ;  and  Ellen's  longing  look 
for  this  as  well  as  for  a  word  from  her  mother  was 
daily  doomed  to  be  ungratified  and  to  grow  more 
keen  by  delay. 

One  pleasure  only  remained  to  Ellen  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  that  one  she  enjoyed  with 
the  carefulness  of  a  miser.  It  was  seeing  the  cows 
milked,  morning  and  evening.  For  this  she  got  up 
very  early  and  watched  till  the  men  came  for  the 
pails  ;  and  then  away  she  bounded,  out  of  the 
house  and  to  the  barnyard.  There  were  the  milky 
mothers,  five  in  number,  standing  about,  each  io 
14 


2io  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

her  own  corner  of  the  yard  or  cowhouse,  waiting  to 
be  relieved  of  their  burden  of  milk.  They  were 
fine,  gentle  animals,  in  excellent  condition,  and 
looking  every  way  happy  and  comfortable  ;  nothing 
living  under  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  care  was  ever  suf- 
fered to  look  otherwise.  He  was  always  in  the 
barn  or  barnyard  at  milking  time,  and  under  his 
protection  Ellen  felt  safe  and  looked  on  at  her 
ease.  It  was  a  very  pretty  scene — at  least  she 
thought  so.  The  gentle  cows  standing  quietly  to 
be  milked  as  if  they  enjoyed  it,  and  munching  the 
cud ;  and  the  white  streams  of  milk  foaming  into 
the  pails  ;  then  there  was  the  interest  of  seeing 
whether  Sam  or  Johnny  would  get  through  first  ; 
and  how  near  Jane  or  Dolly  would  come  to  rivaling 
Streaky's  fine  pailful ;  and  at  last  Ellen  allowed 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  teach  herself  how  to  milk.  She 
began  with  trembling,  but  learnt  fast  enough  ;  and 
more  than  one  pailful  of  milk  that  Miss  Fortune 
strained  had  been,  unknown  to  her,  drawn  by 
Ellen's  fingers.  These  minutes  in  the  farmyard 
were  the  pleasantest  in  Ellen's  day.  While  they 
lasted  every  care  was  forgotten  and  her  little  face 
was  as  bright  as  the  morning  ;  but  the  milking  was 
quickly  over,  and  the  cloud  gathered  on  Ellen's 
brow  almost  as  soon  as  the  shadow  of  the  house 
fell  upon  it. 

"  Where  is  the  post-office,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 
she  asked  one  morning,  as  she  stood  watching  the 
sharpening  of  an  ax  upon  the  grindstone.  The  ax 
was  in  that  gentleman's  hand,  and  its  edge  care- 
fully laid  to  the  whirling-stone,  which  one  of  the 
farm-boys  was  turning. 

"Where  is  the  post-office  ?     Why,  over  to  Tbiri« 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  ;„n 

Wall,  to  be  sure,"  replied  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  glancing 
up  at  her  from  his  work. — "  Faster,  Johnny." 

"  And  how  often  do  the  letters  come  here  ?  " 
said.  Ellen. 

"Take  care,  Johnny! — some  more  water, — mind 
your  business,  will  you  ?— Just  as  often  as  I  go  to 
fetch  'em,  Miss  Ellen,  and  no  oftener." 

"  And  how  often  do  you  go,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"Only  when  I've  some  other  errand,  Miss  Ellen  ; 
my  grain  would  never  be  in  the  barn  if  I  was  run- 
ning to  the  post-office  every  other  thing, — and  for 
what  ain't  there,  too.  I  don't  get  a  letter  but  two 
or  three  times  a  year,  I  s'pose,  though  I  call, — I 
guess, — half  a  dozen  times. " 

"  Ah,  but  there's  one  there  now,  or  soon  will  be, 
I  know,  for  me,"  said  Ellen.  "  When  do  you  think 
you'll  go  again,  Mr.  Van  Brunt?" 

"  Now,  if  I'd  ha'  knowed  that  I'd  ha'  gone  to 
Thirlwall  yesterday — I  was  within  a  mile  of  it.  I 
don't  see  as  I  can  go  this  week  anyhow  in  the 
world  ;  but  I'll  make  some  errand  there  the  first 
day  I  can,  Miss  Ellen,  that  you  may  depend  on. 
You  sha'n't  wait  for  your  letter  a  bit  longer  than  I 
can  help." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt — you're  very 
kind.  Then  the  letters  never  come  except  when 
you  go  after  them  ?  " 

*'  No  ; — yes — they  do  come  once  in  a  while  by 
old  Mr.  Swaim,  but  he  ha'n't  been  here  this  great 
while." 

"  And  who's  he  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  he's  a  queer  old  chip  that  goes  round  the 
Country  on  all  sorts  of  errands  ;  he  comes  along 
once  in  a  while.     That'll  do,  Johnny, — I  believe 


212  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

this  here  tool  is  as  sharp  as  I  have  any  occasion 
for." 

"  What's  the  use  of  pouring  water  upon  the 
grindstone  ? "  said  Ellen,  "  why  wouldn't  it  do  as 
well  dry  ? " 

"  I  can't  tell,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
who  was  slowly  drawing  his  thumb  over  the  edge 
of  the  ax  ; — "  your  questions  are  a  good  deal  too 
sharp  for  me,  Miss  Ellen  ;  I  only  know  it  would 
spoil  the  ax,  or  the  grindstone,  or  both,  most 
likely." 

"  It's  very  odd,"  said  Ellen,  thoughtfully  ; — "  I 
wish  I  knew  everything.  But,  oh  dear  ! — I  am  not 
likely  to  know  anything,"  said  she,  her  countenance 
suddenly  changing  from  its  pleased,  inquisitive 
look  to  a  cloud  of  disappointment  and  sorrow.  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  noticed  the  change. 

"  Ain't  your  aunt  going  to  send  you  to  school, 
then  ? "  said  he. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  sighing; — "she 
never  speaks  about  it,  nor  about  anything  else. 
But  I  declare  I'll  make  her ! "  she  exclaimed, 
changing  again.  "  I'll  go  right  in  and  ask  her,  and 
then  she'll  have  to  tell  me.  I  will !  I  am  tired  of 
living  so.  I'll  know  what  she  means  to  do,  and 
then  I  can  tell  what  /  must  do." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt,  seemingly  dubious  about  the 
success  of  this  line  of  conduct,  stroked  his  chin  and 
his  ax  alternately  two  or  three  times  in  silence, 
and  finally  walked  off.  Ellen,  without  waiting  for 
her  courage  to   cool,  went  directly  into  the  house. 

Miss  Fortune,  however,  was  not  in  the  kitchen ; 
to  follow  her  into  her  secret  haunts,  the  dairy,  cel- 
lar, or  lower  kitchen,  was  not  to   be   thought  of 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  213 

Ellen  waited  awhile,  but  her  aunt  did  not  come, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  moment  cooled  down. 
She  was  not  quite  so  ready  to  enter  upon  the  busi- 
ness as  she  had  felt  at  first ;  she  had  even  some 
qualms  about  it. 

"  But  I'll  do  it,"  said  Ellen  to  herself  :— "  it  will 
be  hard,  but  I'll  doit!" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

For  my  part,  he  keeps  me  here  rustically 
At  home,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  stays 
Me  here  at  home  unkept. 

As  You  Like  It. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Ellen  found 
the  chance  she  rather  dreaded  than  wished  for. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  gone  out ;  the  old  lady  had  not 
left  her  room ;  and  Miss  Fortune  was  quietly 
seated  by  the  fire,  busied  with  some  mysteries  of 
cooking.  Like  a  true  coward,  Ellen  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  to  bolt  at  once  into  the  thick  of 
the  matter,  but  thought  to  come  to  it  gradually, — 
always  a  bad  way. 

"  What  is  that,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  "  said  she,  aftei 
she  had  watched  her  with  a  beating  heart  for  about 
five  minutes. 

"  What  is  what  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  what  is  that  you  are  staining  through 
the  colander  into  that  jar  ?  " 

"  Hop-water." 

"What  is  it  for?" 

"  I'm  scalding  this  meal  with  it  to  make  turn- 
pikes." 

"  Turnpikes  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  thought  turn- 
pikes  were    high,    smooth    roads,    with    toll-gates 


214  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

every  now  and  then — that's  what  mamma  told  me 
they  were." 

"  That's  all  the  kind  of  turnpikes  your  mamma 
knew  anything  about,  I  reckon,"  said  Miss  Fortune, 
in  a  tone  that  conveyed  the  notion  that  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery's education  had  been  very  incomplete. 
'And  indeed,"  she  added,  immediately  after,  "if 
she  had  made  more  turnpikes  and  paid  fewer  tolls, 
it  would  have  been  just  as  well,  I'm  thinking." 

Ellen  felt  the  tone,  if  she  did  not  thoroughly 
understand  the  words.  She  was  silent  a  moment; 
then,  remembering  her  purpose,  she  began  again. 
."What  are  these,  then,  Aunt  Fortune  ?" 

"  Cakes,  child,  cakes  ! — turnpike  cakes — what  I 
raise  the  bread  with." 

"  What,  those  little  brown  cakes  I  have  seen  you 
melt  in  water  and  mix  in  the  flour  when  you  make 
bread  ?  " 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  yes !  you've  seen  hundreds  of 
'em  since  you've  been  here  if  you  never  saw  one 
before." 

"  I  never  did,"  said  Ellen.  "  But  what  are  they 
called  turnpikes  for  ? " 

"  The  land  knows  ! — I  don't.  For  mercy's  sake 
stop  asking  me  questions,  Ellen ;  I  don't  know 
what's  got  into  you  ;  you'll  drive  me  crazy." 

"  But  there's  one  more  question  I  want  to  ask 
very  much,"  said  Ellen,  with  her  heart  beating. 

"  Well,  ask  it  then  quick,  and  have  done,  and 
take  yourself  off.  I  have  other  fish  to  fry  than  to 
answer  all  your  questions." 

Miss  Fortune,  however,  was  still  quietly  seated 
by  the  fire  stirring  her  meal  and  hot-water,  and 
Ellen  could  not  be  quick ;  the  words  stuck  in  he* 
throat, — came  out  at  last. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


2I5 


"  Aunt  Fortune,  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  I  may  go 
to  school." 

"  Yes." 

Ellen's  heart  sprang  with  a  feeling  of  joy,  a 
little  qualified  by  the  peculiar  dry  tone  in  which 
the  word  was  uttered. 

"  When  may  I  go  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  you  like." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  ma'am.  To  which  school  shall 
I  go,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  " 

"  To  whichever  you  like." 

"  But  I  don't  know  anything  about  them,"  said 
Ellen  ; — "  how  can  I  tell  which  is  best  ?  " 

Miss  Fortune  was  silent. 

"  What  schools  are  there  near  here  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  There's  Captain  Conklin's  down  at  the  cross, 
and  Miss  Emerson's  at  Thirlwall." 

Ellen  hesitated.  The  name  was  against  her,  but 
nevertheless  she  concluded  on  the  whole  that  the 
lady's  school  would  be  the  pleasantest. 

"  Is  Miss  Emerson  any  relation  of  yours  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  go  to  her  school  the 
best.     I  will  go  there  if  you  will  let  me, — may  I  ? " 

"Yes." 

"And  I  will  begin  next  Monday, — may  I  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Ellen  wished  exceedingly  that  her  aunt  would 
speak  in  some  other  tone  of  voice  ;  it  was  a  con- 
tinual damper  to  her  rising  hopes. 

"  I'll  get  my  books  ready,"  said  she, — "  and  look 
'em  over  a  little  too,  I  guess.  But  what  will  be 
the  best  way  for  me  to  go.  Aunt  Fortune  ? " 


t 
2l6  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I  couldn't  walk  so  far,  could  I  ?  " 

"  You  know  best." 

"I  couldn't,  I'm  sure,"  said  Ellen; — "it's  foul 
miles  to  Thirlwall,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  said ;  that 
would  be  too  much  for  me  to  walk  twice  a  day  ; 
and  I  should  be  afraid  besides." 

A  dead  silence. 

u  But,  Aunt  Fortune,  do  please  tell  me  what  I  am 
to  do.  How  can  I  know  unless  you  tell  me? 
What  way  is  there  that  I  can  go  to  school  ? " 

"It  is  unfortunate  that  I  don't  keep  a  carriage," 
said  Miss  Fortune, — "but  Mr.  Van  Brunt  can  go 
for  you  morning  and  evening  in  the  ox-cart,  if  that 
will  answer." 

"The  ox-cart!  But,  dear  me!  it  would  take 
him  all  day,  Aunt  Fortune.  It  takes  hours  and 
hours  to  go  and  come  with  the  oxen  ; — Mr.  Van 
Brunt  wouldn't  have  time  to  do  anything  but  carry 
me  to  school  and  bring  me  home." 

"  Of  course, — but  that's  of  no  consequence,"  said 
Miss  Fortune,  in  the  same  dry  tone. 

"Then  I  can't  go — there's  no  help  for  it,"  said 
Ellen,  despondingly.  "  Why  didn't  you  say  so  be- 
fore ?   When  you  said  yes  I  thought  you  meant  yes." 

She  covered  her  face.  Miss  Fortune  rose  with 
a  half  smile  and  carried  her  jar  of  scalded  meal 
into  the  pantry.  She  then  came  back  and  com- 
menced the  operation  of  washing  up  the  breakfast 
things. 

"  Ah  !  if  I  only  had  a  little  pony,"  said  Ellen, 
"that  would  carry  me  there  and  back,  and  go 
trotting  about  with  me  everywhere, — how  nice  that 
would  be  !  " 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  217 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  very  nice !  And  who  do 
you  think  would  go  trotting  about  after  the  pony  ? 
I  suppose  you  would  leave  that  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt ; 
and  I  should  have  to  go  trotting  about  after  you,  to 
pick  you  up  in  case  you  broke  your  neck  in  some 
ditch  or  gulley; — it  would  be  a  very  nice  affair 
altogether,  I  think." 

Ellen  was  silent.  Her  hopes  had  fallen  to  the 
ground,  and  her  disappointment  was  unsoothed  by 
one  word  of  kindness  or  sympathy.  With  all  her 
old  grievances  fresh  in  her  mind,  she  sat  thinking 
her  aunt  was  the  very  most  disagreeable  person 
she  had  ever  had  the  misfortune  to  meet  with.  No 
amiable  feelings  were  working  within  her ;  and  the 
cloud  on  her  brow  was  of  displeasure  and  disgust, 
as  well  as  sadness  and  sorrow.     Her  aunt  saw  it. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ? "  said  she,  rather 
sharply. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  am  very  sorry  I 
cannot  go  to  school." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  want  to  learn  so  much  ? — 
you  know  how  to  read  and  write  and  cipher,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  Read  and  write  and  cipher  !  "  said  Ellen, — "  to 
be  sure  I  do  ;  but  that's  nothing ;  that's  only  the 
beginning." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  learn,  besides  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  great  many  things." 

"  Well,  what  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  great  many  things,"  said  Ellen  ; — 
"  French,  and  Italian,  and  Latin,  and  music,  and 
arithmetic,  and  chemistry,  and  all  about  animals 
and  plants  and  insects, — I  forget  what  it's  called, 
— and — oh,  I  can't  recollect ;    a  great  many  things. 


2iS  THE   WIDE,  WIDE    WORLD. 

Every  now  and  then  I  think  of  something  I 
want  to  learn ;  I  can't  remember  them  now.  But 
Im  doing  nothing,"  said  Ellen,  sadly, — "learning 
nothing — I'm  not  studying  and  improving  myself 
as  I  meant  to  ;  mamma  will  be  disappointed  when 
she  comes  back,  and  I  meant  to  please  her  so 
much  !  " 

The  tears  were  fast  coming  ;  she  put  her  hand 
upon  her  eyes  to  force  them  back. 

"  If  you're  so  tired  of  being  idle,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,  "  I'll  warrant  I'll  give  you  something  to  do ; 
and  something  to  learn  too,  that  you  want  enough 
more  than  all  those  crinkum-crankums ;  I  wonder 
what  good  they'd  ever  do  you  !  That's  the  way 
your  mother  was  brought  up,  I  suppose.  If  she 
had  been  trained  to  use  her  hands  and  do  some- 
thing useful  instead  of  thinking  herself  above  it, 
maybe  she  wouldn't  have  had  to  go  to  sea  for  her 
health  just  now ;  it  doesn't  do  for  women  to  be 
bookworms." 

"  Mamma  isn't  a  bookworm  !  "  said  Ellen,  indig- 
nantly ; — "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  ; — and  she 
never  thinks  herself  above  being  useful ;  it's  very 
strange  you  should  say  so  when  you  don't  know 
anything  about  her." 

"  I  know  she  ha'n't  brought  you  up  to  know 
manaers,  anyhow,"  said  Miss  Fortune.  "Look 
here,  I'll  give  you  something  to  do, — just  you  put 
those  plates  and  dishes  together  ready  for  washing, 
while  I  am  downstairs." 

Ellen  obeyed,  unwillingly  enough.  She  had 
neither  knowledge  of  the  business  nor  any  liking 
for  it ;  so  it  is  no  wonder  Miss  Fortune  at  her  re- 
turn was  not  well  pleased. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  219 

"  But  I  never  did  such  a  thing  before,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  There  it  is  now ! "  said  Miss  Fortune.  "  I 
wonder  where  your  eyes  have  been  every  single 
time  that  I  have  done  it  since  you  have  been  here. 
I  should  think  your  own  sense  might  have  told 
you !  But  you  are  too  busy  learning  of  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  to  know  what's  going  on  in  the  house.  Is 
that  what  you  call  made  ready  for  washing  ?  Now 
just  have  the  goodness  to  scrape  every  plate  clean 
off  and  put  them  nicely  in  a  pile  here ;  and  turn 
out  the  slops  out  of  the  tea-cups  and  saucers  and 
set  them  by  themselves. — Well!  what  makes  you 
handle  them  so  ?  are  you  afraid  they'll  burn  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  to  take  hold  of  things  people  have 
drunk  out  of,"  said  Ellen,  who  was  indeed  touch- 
ing the  cups  and  saucers  very  delicately  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Miss  Fortune, —  "  don't  you 
let  me  hear  no  more  of  that,  or  I  vow  I'll  give  you 
something  to  do  you  won't  like.  Now  put  the  spoons 
here,  and  the  knives  and  forks  together  here;  and 
carry  the  salt-cellar  and  the  pepper-box  and  the 
butter  and  the  sugar  into  the  buttery." 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  put  them, "  said  Ellen. 

"  Come  along,  then,  and  I'll  show  you ;  it's  time 
you  did.  I  reckon  you'll  feel  better  when  you've 
something  to  do,  and  you  shall  have  plenty.  There 
— put  them  in  that  cupboard,  and  set  the  butter  up 
here,  and  put  the  bread  in  this  box,  do  you  see  ? 
Now  don't  let  me  have  to  show  you  twice  over." 

This  was  Ellen's  first  introduction  to  the  but- 
tery ;  she  had  never  dared  to  go  in  there  before* 
It  was  a  long  light  closet  or   pantry,  lined  on  the 


220  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

left  side,  and  at  the  further  end,  with  wide  shelves 
up  to  the  ceiling.  On  these  shelves  stood  many 
capacious  pans  and  basins,  of  tin  and  earthenware, 
filled  with  milk,  most  of  them  coated  with  superb 
yellow  cream.  Midway  was  the  window,  before 
which  Miss  Fortune  was  accustomed  to  skim  her 
milk ;  and  at  the  side  of  it  was  the  mouth  of  a 
wooden  pipe,  or  covered  trough,  which  conveyed 
the  refuse  milk  down  to  an  enormous  hogshead 
•standing  at  the  lower  kitchen  door,  whence  it  was 
drawn  as  wanted  for  the  use  of  the  pigs.  Beyond 
the  window  in  the  buttery,  and  on  the  higher  shelves, 
were  rows  of  yellow  cheeses ;  forty  or  fifty  were 
there  at  least.  On  the  right  hand  of  the  door  was 
the  cupboard,  and  a  short  range  of  shelves,  which 
held  in  ordinary  all  sorts  of  matters  for  the  table, 
both  dishes  and  eatables.  Floor  and  shelves  were 
well  painted  with  thick  yellow  paint,  hard  and  shin- 
ing, and  clean  as  could  be ;  and  there  was  a  faint 
pleasant  smell  of  dairy  things. 

Ellen  did  not  find  out  all  this  at  once,  but  in  the 
-course  of  a  day  or  two,  during  which  her  visits  to 
the  buttery  were  many.  Miss  Fortune  kept  hef 
word,  and  found  her  plenty  to  do  ;  Ellen's  life  soon 
became  a  pretty  busy  one.  She  did  not  like  this 
at  all ;  it  was  a  kind  of  work  she  had  no  love  for  ; 
yet,  no  doubt,  it  was  a  good  exchange  for  the  miser- 
able moping  life  she  had  lately  led.  Anything  was 
better  than  that.  One  concern,  however,  lay  upon 
poor  Ellen's  mind  with  pressing  weight, — her  neg- 
lected studies  and  wasted  time  ;  for  no  better 
than  wasted  she  counted  it.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 
she  said  to  herself,  after  several  of  these  busy  days 
had  passed  ;  "  I  am  doing  nothing — I  am  learning 


1UE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLP  321 

nothing — I  shall  forget  all  I  have  learnt,  directly 
At  this  rate  I  shall  not  know  any  more  than  ah 
these  people  around  me  ;  and  what  will  mamma 
say  ? — Well,  if  I  can't  go  to  school  I  know  what  I 
will  do,"  she  said,  taking  a  sudden  resolve,  "  I'll 
study  by  myself  !  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  ;  it  will 
be  better  than  nothing,  anyw^v,  I'll  begin  this 
very  day  !  " 

With  new  life  Ellen  sprang  upstairs  to  her  room, 
and  forthwith  began  pulling  all   the   things  out  of 
her  trunk  to  get  at  her  books.     They  were  at  the 
very  bottom  ;  and  by  the   time   she   had  reached 
them,  half  the  floor  was   strewn   with  the  varkr 
articles  of   her  wardrobe  ;  without   minding  t1 
in    her    first    eagerness,    Ellen     pounced    a' 
books. 

"  Here  you  are,  my  dear  Numa  Pompilius 
she,  drawing  out  a  little  French  book  she  hat 
begun  to  read,  "  and  here  you  are,  old  gramni  ir 
and  dictionary, — and  here  is  my  history, — very  glad 
to  see  you,  Mr.  Goldsmith  !  —  and  what  in  the 
world's  this  ? — wrapped  up  as  if  it  was  something 
great, — oh,  my  expositor ;  I  am  not  glad  to  see 
you,  I  am  sure ;  never  want  to  look  at  your  face, 
or  your  back  again.  My  copy-book — I  wonder 
who'll  set  copies  for  me  now  ; — my  arithmetic,  that's 
you  ! — geography  and  atlas — all  right ; — and  my 
slate  ;  but  dear  me  !  I  don't  believe  I  have  such  a 
thing  as  a  slate-pencil  in  the  world ;  where  shall  I 
get  one,  I  wonder  ? — well,  I'll  manage.  And  that's 
all,— that's  all,  I  believe." 

With  all  her  heart,  Ellen  would  have  begun  her 
studying  at  once,  but  there  were  all  her  things  on 
the  floor,  silently  saying,  "  Put  us  up  first." 


222  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  declare,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  it's  too  bad 
to  have  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  bureau  to  keep 
one's  clothes  in.  I  wonder  if  I  am  to  live  in  a 
trunk,  as  mamma  says,  all  the  time  I  am  here,  and 
have  to  go  down  to  the  bottom  of  it  every  time  I 
want  a  pocket-handkerchief  or  a  pair  of  stockings. 
How  I  do  despise  those  gray  stockings  ! — But  what 
can  I  do  ?  it's  too  bad  to  squeeze  my  nice  things 
up  so.  I  wonder  what  is  behind  those  doors.  I'll 
find  out,  I  know,  before  long." 

On  the  north  side  of  Ellen's  room  were  three 
doors.     She  had  never  opened  them,  but  now  took 

into  her  head   to   see   what  was  there,  thinking 

oht  possibly  find  what  would  help  her  out  of 

tp.iculty.     She  had  some  little  fear  of  meddling 

■ling  in  her  aunt's   domain  ;  so  she  fast- 

-!     rwn  door  to  guard   against   interruption 

\  f  jto  was  busied  in  making  discoveries. 

,fnrn'.:io  foot  of  her  bed,  in  the  corner,  was  one 
'arge  door  fastened  by  a  button,  as  indeed  they 
were  all.  This  opened,  she  found,  upon  a  flight  of 
stairs,  leading  as  she  supposed  to  the  garret,  but 
Ellen  did  not  care  to  go  up  and  see.  They  were 
lighted  by  half  of  a  large  window,  across  the  middle 
of  which  the  stairs  went  up. '  She  quickly  shut  that 
door,  and  opened  the  next,  a  little  one.  Here  she 
found  a  tiny  closet  under  the  stairs,  lighted  by  the 
other  half  of  the  window.  There  was  nothing  in 
it  but  a  broad,  low  shelf  or  step  under  the  stairs, 
where  Ellen  presently  decided  she  could  stow  away 
her  books  very  nicely.  "  It  only  wants  a  little 
brushing  out,"  said  Ellen,  "  and  it  will  do  very 
well."  The  other  door,  in  the  other  corner,  ad- 
mitted her  to  a  large,  light  closet,  perfectly  empty. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  223 

"  Now  if  there  were  only  some  hooks  or  pegs  here,' 
thought  Ellen,  "  to  hang  up  dresses  on — but  why 
shouldn't  I  drive  some  nails  ? — I  will !  I  will !  Oh, 
that'll  be  fine  !  " 

Unfastening  her  door  in  a  hurry  she  ran  down- 
stairs ;  and  her  heart  beating,  between  pleasure 
and  the  excitement  of  daring  so  far  without  her 
aunt's  knowledge,  she  ran  out  and  crossed  the  chip- 
yard  to  the  barn,  where  she  had  some  hope  of  find- 
ing Mr.  Van  Brunt.  By  the  time  she  got  to  the 
little  cowhouse  door  a  great  noise  of  knocking  or 
pounding  in  the  barn  made  her  sure  he  was  there, 
and  she  went  on  to  the  lower  barn-floor.  There 
he  was,  he  and  the  two  farm-boys  (who,  by  the  by, 
were  grown  men),  all  three  threshing  wheat.  Ellen 
stopped  at  the  door,  and  for  a  minute  forgot  what 
she  had  come  for  in  the  pleasure  of  looking  at 
them.  The  clean  floor  was  strewn  with  grain,  upon 
which  the  heavy  flails  came  down  one  after  an- 
other, wkh  quick,  regular  beat, — one — two — three 
- — one — two — three,- — keeping  perfect  time.  The 
pleasant  sound  could  be  heard  afar  off ;  though, 
indeed,  where  Ellen  stood  it  was  rather  too  loud  to 
be  pleasant.  Her  little  voice  had  no  chance  of 
being  heard ;  she  stood  still,  and  waited.  Pres- 
ently Johnny,  who  was  opposite,  caught  a  sight  of 
her,  and  without  stopping  his  work  said  to  his 
leader,  "  Somebody  there  for  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 
That  gentleman's  flail  ceased  its  motion,  then  he 
threw  it  down,  and  went  to  the  door  to  help  Ellen 
up  the  high  step. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  have  you  come  out  to  see 
what's  going  on  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  "  I've  been  looking, — but,  Mr 


224  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD- 

Van  Brunt,  could  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  have 
a  hammer  and  half  a  dozen  nails  ? " 

"  A  hammer  and  half  a  dozen  nails ; — come  thb 
way,"  said  he. 

They  went  out  of  the  barn-yard  and  across  the 
chip-yard  to  an  outhouse  below  the  garden  and  not 
far  from  the  spout,  called  the  poultry-house  ;  though 
it  was  quite  as  much  the  property  of  the  hogs,  who 
had  a  regular  sleeping  apartment  there,  where  corn 
was  always  fed  out  to  the  fatting  ones.  Opening 
a  kind  of  granary  store-room,  where  the  corn  for 
this  purpose  was  stowed,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  took  down 
from  a  shelf  a  large  hammer  and  a  box  of  nails* 
and  asked  Ellen  what  size  she  wanted. 

"  Pretty  large." 

"  So  ?  " 

"  No,  a  good  deal  bigger  yet,  I  should  like." 

" <  A  good  deal  bigger  yet,' — who  wants  'em  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  You  do !  Do  you  think  your  little  arms  can 
manage  that  big  hammer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;   I  guess  so  ;  I'll  try." 

"  Where  do  you  want  'em  driv  ?  " 

"  Up  in  a  closet  in  my  room,"  said  Ellen,  speak- 
ing as  softly  as  if  she  had  feared  her  aunt  was  at 
the  corner ;  "  I  want  'em  to  hang  up  dresses  and 
things." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  half  smiled,  and  put  up  the  ham- 
mer and  nails  on  the  shelf  again. 

"Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  he; — 
"  you  can't  manage  them  big  things ;  I'll  put  'em 
up  for  you  to-night  when  I  come  in  to  supper." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  she  won't  let  you,''  said  Ellen, 
doubtfully. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  225, 

"  Never  you  mind  about  that,"  said  he,  "  I'll  fix 
it.     Maybe  we  won't  ask  her." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  said  Ellen,  joyfully,  her  face 
recovering  its  full  sunshine  in  answer  to  his  smile, 
and  clapping  her  hands  she  ran  back  to  the  house, 
while  more  slowly  Mr.  Van  Brunt  returned  to  the 
threshers.  Ellen  seized  dust-pan  and  brush  and 
ran  up  to  her  room  ;  and  setting  about  the  business 
with  right  good  will,  she  soon  had  her  closets  in 
beautiful  order.  The  books,  writing-desk,  and 
work-box  were  then  bestowed  very  carefully  in  the 
one ;  in  the  other  her  coats  and  dresses  neatly 
folded  up  in  a  pile  on  the  floor,  waiting  till  the 
nails  should  be  driven.  Then  the  remainder  of  her 
things  were  gathered  up  from  the  floor  and  neatly 
arranged  in  the  trunk  again.  Having  done  all  this, 
Ellen's  satisfaction  was  unbounded.  By  this  time 
dinner  was  ready.  As  soon  after  dinner  as  she 
could  escape  from  Miss  Fortune's  calls  upon  her, 
Ellen  stole  up  to  her  room  and  her  books,  and 
began  work  in  earnest.  The  whole  afternoon  was 
spent  over  sums  and  verbs,  and  maps  and  pages  of 
history.  A  little  before  tea,  as  Ellen  was  setting 
the  table,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  into  the  kitchen 
with  a  bag  on  his  back. 

"  What  have  you  got  there,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? " 
said  Miss  Fortune. 

"  A  bag  of  seed  corn." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? " 

"  Put  it  up  in  the  garret  for  safe  keeping." 

"  Set  it  down  in  the  corner  and  I'll  take  it  up  to- 
morrow." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am, — rather  go  myself,  if  it's 
all  the  same  to  you.  You  needn't  be  scared,  I've 
15 


226  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

left  my  shoes  at  the  door.  Miss  Ellen,  I  believe 
I've  got  to  go  through  your  room." 

Ellen  was  glad  to  run  before  to  hide  her  laughter. 
When  they  reached  her  room,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  pro- 
duced a  hammer  out  of  the  bag,  and  taking  a  hand- 
ful of  nails  from  his  pocket,  put  up  a  fine  row  of 
them  along  her  closet  wall ;  then  while  she  hung 
up  her  dresses  he  went  on  to  the  garret,  and  Ellen 
heard  him  hammering  there,  too.  Presently  he 
came  down  and  they  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

"  What  's  all  that  knocking  ?  "  said  Miss  Fortune. 

"  I've  been  driving  some  nails,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  coolly. 

"  Up  in  the  garret  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  in  Miss  Ellen's  closet ;  she  said  she 
wanted  some." 

"  You  should  ha'  spoke  to  me  about  it,"  said  Miss 
Fortune  to  Ellen.  There  was  displeasure  enough 
in  her  face ;  but  she  said  no  more,  and  the  matter 
blew  over  much  better  than  Ellen  had  feared. 

Ellen  steadily  pursued  her  plan  of  studying,  in 
spite  of  some  discouragements. 

A  letter  written  about  ten  days  after  gave  her 
mother  an  account  of  her  endeavors  and  of  her 
success.  It  was  a  despairing  account.  Ellen  com- 
plained that  she  wanted  help  to  understand,  and 
lacked  time  to  study;  that  her  aunt  kept  her  busy, 
and,  she  believed,  took  pleasure  in  breaking  her 
off  from  her  books ;  and  she  bitterly  said  her 
mother  must  expect  to  find  an  ignorant  little 
daughter  when  she  came  home.  It  ended  with, 
"  Oh,  if  I  could  just  see  you,  and  kiss  you,  and 
put  my  arms  round  you,  mamma,  I'd  be  willing  to 
die !  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  227 

This  letter  was  dispatched  the  next  morning 
by  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  and  Ellen  waited  and  watched 
with  great  anxiety  for  his  return  from  Thirlwall  in 
the  afternoon, 

CHAPTER  XV. 

An  ant  dropped  into  the  water  ;  a  wood-pigeon   took  pity  of  her  and 
threw  her  a  Mule  bough.— L' Estrange. 

The  afternoon  was  already  half  spent  when  Mr. 
Van  Brunt's  ox-cart  was  seen  returning.  Ellen  was 
standing  by  the  little  gate  that  opened  on  the  chip- 
yard  ;  and  with  her  heart  beating  anxiously  she 
watched  the  slow-coming  oxen  ;  how  slowly  they 
came  !  At  last  they  turned  out  of  the  lane  and 
drew  the  cart  up  the  ascent ;  and  stopping  beneath 
the  apple-tree,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  leisurely  got  down, 
and  flinging  back  his  whip,  came  to  the  gate.  But 
the  little  face  that  met  him  there,  quivering  with 
hope  and  fear,  made  his  own  quite  sober.  "  I'm 
really  very  sorry,  Miss  Ellen — "  he  began. 

That  was  enough.  Ellen  waited  to  hear  no  more, 
but  turned  away,  the  cold  chill  of  disappointment 
coming  over  her  heart.  She  had  borne  the  former 
delays  pretty  well,  but  this  was  one  too  many,  and 
she  felt  sick.  She  went  round  to  the  front  stoop, 
where  scarcely  ever  anybody  came,  and  sitting 
down  on  the  steps,  wept  sadly  and  despairingly. 

It  might  have  been  half  an  hour  or  more  after 
that  the  kitchen  door  slowly  opened  and  Ellen  came 
in.  Wishing  her  aunt  should  not  see  her  swollen 
eyes,  she  was  going  quietly  through  to  her  own 
room  when  Miss  Fortune  called  her.  Ellen  stopped. 
Miss  Fortune  was  sitting  before  the  fire  with  an 
open  letter  lying  in  her  lap  and  another  in  hei 


228  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

hand.  The  latter  she  held  out  to  Ellen,  saying, 
*'  Here,  child,  come  and  take  this." 

"What  is  it?  "  said  Ellen,  slowly  coming  towards 
her. 

"  Don't  you  see  what  it  is?"  said  Miss  Fortune, 
still  holding  it  out. 

"  But  who  is  it  from  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"Your  mother." 

"  A  letter  from  mamma,  and  not  to  me  !  "  said 
Ellen,  with  changing  color.  She  took  it  quick  from 
her  aunt's  hand.  But  her  color  changed  more  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  first  words,  "  My  dear  Ellen," 
and  turning  the  paper,  she  saw  upon  the  back, 
■*'  Miss  Ellen  Montgomery."  Her  next  look  was  to 
her  aunt's  face,  with  her  eye  fired,  and  her  cheek 
paled  with  anger,  and  when  she  spoke  her  voice 
was  not  the  same. 

"This  is  my  letter,"  she  said,  trembling  ; — "who 
opened  it? " 

Miss  Fortune's  conscience  must  have  troubled 
her  a  little,  for  her  eye  wavered  uneasily.  Only  for 
a  second,  though. 

"  Who  opened  it  ? "  she  answered  ;  "  /opened  it. 
I  should  like  to  know  who  has  a  better  right.  And 
I  shall  open  every  one  that  comes,  to  serve  you  for 
looking  so  ; — that  you  may  depend  upon." 

The  look  and  the  words  and  the  injury  together 
fairly  put  Ellen  beside  herself.  She  dashed  the 
letter  to  the  ground,  and  livid  and  trembling  with 
various  feelings — rage  was  not  the  only  one, — she 
ran  from  her  aunt's  presence.  She  did  not  shed 
any  tears  now  ;  she  could  not ;  they  were  absolutely 
burnt  up  by  passion.  She  walked  her  room  with 
trembling  steps,  clasping   and  wringing  her  hands 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  22y 

now  and  then,  wildly  thinking  what  could  she  do  to 
get  out  of  this  dreadful  state  of  things,  and  unable 
to  see  anything  but  misery  before  her.  She  walked, 
for  she  could  not  sit  down ;  but  presently  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  breathe  the  air  of  the  house  ; 
and  taking  her  bonnet,  she  went  down,  passed 
through  the  kitchen,  and  went  out.  Miss  Fortune 
asked  where  she  was  going,  and  bade  her  stay 
within  doors,  but  Ellen  paid  no  attention  to  her. 

She  stood  still  a  moment  outside  of  the  little  gate. 
She  might  have  stood  long  to  look.  The  mellow 
light  of  an  Indian  summer  afternoon  lay  upon  the 
meadow  and  the  old  barn  and  chip-yard  ;  there  was 
beauty  in  them  all  under  its  smile.  Not  a  breath 
was  stirring.  The  rays  of  the  sun  struggled  through 
a  blue  haze,  which  hung  upon  the  hills  and  softened 
every  distant  object ;  and  the  silence  of  nature  aH 
around  was  absolute,  made  more  noticeable  by  th*; 
far-off  voice  of  somebody,  it  might  be  Mr.  Va*\ 
Brunt,  calling  to  his  oxen  very  far  off  and  not  to  be 
seen  ;  the  sound  came  softly  to  her  ear  through 
the  stillness.  "  Peace,"  was  the  whisper  of  nature 
to  her  troubled  child ;  but  Ellen's  heart  was  in  a 
whirl ;  she  could  not  hear  the  whisper.  It  was  a 
relief,  however,  to  be  out  of  the  house,  and  in  the 
sweet  open  air.  Ellen  breathed  more  freely,  and 
pausing  a  moment  there,  and  clasping  her  hands 
together  once  more  in  sorrow,  she  went  down  the 
road  and  out  at  the  gate,  and  exchanging  her  quick 
broken  step  for  a  slow  measured  one,  she  took  the 
way  towards  Thirlwall.  Little  regarding  the  love- 
liness which  that  day  was  upon  every  slope  and 
roadside,  Ellen  presently  quitted  the  Thirlwall  road 
and  half  unconsciously  turned  into  a  path  on  the 


230  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

left  which  she  had  never  taken  before, — perhaps 
for  that  reason.  It  was  not  much  traveled  evidently  ; 
the  grass  grew  green  on  both  sides  and  even  in  the 
middle  of  the  way,  though  here  and  there  the  track 
of  wheels  could  be  seen.  Ellen  did  not  care  about 
where  she  was  going  ;  she  only  found  it  pleasant  to 
walk  on  and  get  further  from  home.  The  road  or 
lane  led  towards  a  mountain  somewhat  to  the  north- 
west of  Miss  Fortune's ;  the  same  which  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  had  once  named  to  Ellen  as  "  the  Nose." 
After  three-quarters  of  an  hour  the  road  began 
gently  to  ascend  the  mountain,  rising  towards  the 
north.  About  one-third  of  the  way  from  the  bot- 
tom Ellen  came  to  a  little  footpath  on  the  left  which 
allured  her  by  its  promise  of  prettiness,  and  she 
forsook  the  lane  for  it.  The  promise  was  abun- 
dantly fulfilled  ;  it  was  a  most  lovely  wild  woodway 
path  ;  but  withal  not  a  little  steep  and  rocky.  Ellen 
began  to  grow  weary.  The  lane  went  on  towards 
the  north  ;  the  path  rather  led  off  towards  the 
southern  edge  of  the  mountain,  rising  all  the  while ; 
but,  before  she  reached  that,  Ellen  came  to  what 
she  thought  a  good  resting-place,  where  the  path 
opened  upon  a  small  level  platform  or  ledge  of  the 
hill.  The  mountain  rose  steep  behind  her,  and 
sank  very  steep  immediately  before  her,  leaving 
a  very  superb  view  of  the  open  country  from  the 
northeast  to  the  southeast.  Carpeted  with  moss, 
and  furnished  with  fallen  stones  and  pieces  of  rock, 
this  was  a  fine  resting-place  for  the  wayfarer,  or 
loitering  place  for  the  lover  of  nature.  Ellen 
seated  herself  on  one  of  the  stones,  and  looked 
sadly  and  wearily  towards  the  east,  at  first  very 
careless  of  the  exceeding  beauty  of  what  she  beheld 
there. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD,  231 

For  miles  and  miles,  on  every  side  but  the  west, 
lay  stretched  before  her  a  beautifully  broken 
country.  The  November  haze  hung  over  it  now 
like  a  thin  veil,  giving  great  sweetness  and  soft- 
ness to  the  scene.  Far  in  the  distance,  a  range 
of  low  hills  showed  like  a  misty  cloud  ;  near  by, 
at  the  mountain's  foot,  the  fields  and  farm-houses 
and  roads  lay  a  pictured  map.  About  a  mile  and 
a  half  to  the  south  rose  the  mountain  where  Nancy 
Vawse  lived,  craggy  and  bare ;  but  the  leafless  trees 
and  stern,  jagged  rocks  were  wrapped  in  the  haze ; 
and  through  this  the  sun,  now  near  the  setting, 
threw  his  mellowing  rays,  touching  every  slope  and 
ridge  with  a  rich  warm  glow. 

Poor  Ellen  did  not  heed  the  picturesque  effect  of 
all  this,  yet  the  sweet  influences  of  nature  reached 
her,  and  softened  while  they  increased  her  sorrow. 
She  felt  her  own  heart  sadly  out  of  tune  with  the 
peace  and  loveliness  of  all  she  saw.  Her  eye  sought 
those  distant  hills, — how  very  far  off  they  were  !  and 
yet  all  that  wide  tract  of  country  was  but  a  little 
piece  of  what  lay  between  her  and  her  mother. 
Her  eye  sought  those  hills, — but  her  mind  over- 
passed them  and  went  far  beyond,  over  many  such 
a  tract,  till  it  reached  the  loved  one  at  last.  But 
oh !  how  much  between  !  "  I  cannot  reach  her  ! 
— she  cannot  reach  me  !  "  thought  poor  Ellen.  Her 
eyes  had  been  filling  and  dropping  tears  for  some 
time,  but  now  came  the  rush  of  the  pent-up  storm, 
and  the  floods  of  grief  were  kept  back  no  longer. 

When  once  fairly  excited,  Ellen's  passions  were 
always  extreme.  During  the  former  peaceful  and 
happy  part  of  her  life  the  occasions  of  such  excite- 
ment had  been  very  rare.     Of  late,  unhappily,  they 


232  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

had  occurred  much  oftener.  Many  were  the  bittel 
fits  of  tears  she  had  known  within  a  few  weeks. 
But  now  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  scattered  causes  of 
sorrow  that  had  wrought  those  tears  were  gathered 
together  and  pressing  upon  her  at  once  ;  and  that 
the  burden  would  crush  her  to  the  earth.  To  the 
earth  it  brought  her  literally.  She  slid  from  her 
seat  at  first,  and  embracing  the  stone  on  which  she 
had  sat,  she  leaned  her  head  there  ;  but  pres- 
ently in  her  agony  quitting  her  hold  of  that,  she 
cast  herself  down  upon  the  moss,  lying  at  full  length 
upon  the  cold  ground,  which  seemed  to  her  child- 
ish fancy  the  best  friend  she  had  left.  But  Ellen 
was  wrought  up  to  the  last  pitch  of  grief  and  pas- 
sion. Tears  brought  no  relief.  Convulsive  weep- 
ing only  exhausted  her.  In  the  extremity  of  her 
distress  and  despair,  and  in  that  lonely  place,  out 
of  hearing  of  every  one,  she  sobbed  aloud,  and  even 
screamed,  for  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life  ;  and 
these  fits  of  violence  were  succeeded  by  exhaustion, 
during  which  she  ceased  to  shed  tears  and  lay  quite 
Still,  drawing  only  long  sobbing  sighs  now  and 
then. 

How  long  Ellen  had  lain  there,  or  how  long  this 
would  have  gone  on  before  her  strength  had  been 
quite  worn  out,  no  one  can  tell.  In  one  of  these 
fits  of  forced  quiet,  when  she  lay  as  still  as  the  rocks 
around  her,  she  heard  a  voice  close  by  say,  "  What 
is  the  matter,  my  child  ?  " 

The  silver  sweetness  of  the  tone  came  singularly 
upon  the  tempest  in  Ellen's  mind.  She  got  up 
hastily,  and  brushing  away  the  tears  from  her 
dimmed  eyes,  she  saw  a  young  lady  standing  there, 
and  a  face  whose    sweetness    well    matched   the 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  233 

voice,  looking  upon  her  with  grave  concern.  She 
stood  motionless  and  silent. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ? " 

The  tone  found  Ellen's  heart,  and  brought  the 
water  to  her  eyes  again,  though  with  a  difference. 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  But  the 
gentle  hands  were  placed  upon  hers  and  drew  them 
away ;  and  the  lady  sitting  down  on  Ellen's  stone, 
took  her  in  her  arms  ;  and  Ellen  hid  her  face  in 
the  bosom  of  a  better  friend  than  the  cold  earth 
had  been  like  to  prove  her.  But  the  change  over- 
came her ;  and  the  soft  whisper,  "  Don't  cry  any 
more,"  made  it  impossible  to  stop  crying.  Nothing 
further  was  said  for  some  time  ;  the  lady  waited 
till  Ellen  grew  calmer.  When  she  saw  her  able  to 
answer,  she  said,  gently, 

"  What  does  all  this  mean,  my  child  ?  What 
troubles  you  ?  Tell  me,  and  I  think  we  can  find  a 
way  to  mend  matters." 

Ellen  answered  the  tone  of  voice  with  a  faint 
smile,  but  the  words  with  another  gush  of  tears. 

"  You  are  Ellen  Montgomery,  aren't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  I  thought  so.  This  isn't  the  first  time  I  have 
seen  you ;  I  have  seen  you  once  before." 

Ellen  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Have  you,  ma'am  ? — I  am  sure  I  have  never 
seen  you." 

"  No,  I  know  that.  I  saw  you  when  you  didn't 
see  me.     Where,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  can't 
guess;  I  haven't  seen  you  at  Aunt  Fortune's,  and  I 
haven't  been  anywhere  else." 

"  You  have  forgotten,"  said  the  lady.     "  Did  you 


234  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

never  hear  of  a  little  girl  who  went  to  take  a  walk 
once  upon  a  time,  and  had  an  unlucky  fall  into  a 
brook  ? — and  then  went  to  a  kind  old  lady's  house, 
where  she  was  dried  and  put  to  bed  and  went  to 
sleep." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Ellen.  "Did  you  see  me  there, 
ma'am,  and  when  I  was  asleep  ?  " 

"  I  saw  you  there  when  you  were  asleep  ;  and 
Mrs.  Van  Brunt  told  me  who  you  were,  and  where 
you  lived  ;  and  when  I  came  here  a  little  while  ago 
I  knew  you  again  very  soon.  And  I  knew  what 
the  matter  was  too,  pretty  well  ;  but  nevertheless 
tell  me  all  about  it,  Ellen  ;  perhaps  I  can  help 
you." 

Ellen  shook  head  her  dejectedly.  "  Nobody  in 
this  world  can  help  me,"  she  said. 

"  Then  there's  One  in  heaven  that  can,"  said  the 
lady,  steadily.  "  Nothing  is  too  bad  for  Him  to 
mend.     Have  you  asked  His  help,  Ellen  ?  " 

Ellen  began  to  weep  again.  "  Oh,  if  I  could,  I 
would  tell  you  all  about  it,  ma'am,"  she  said  ;  "but 
there  are  so  many  thinrs,  I  don't  know  where  to 
begin,  I  don't  know  when  I  should  ever  get 
through." 

"  So  many  things  that  trouble  you,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  indeed.  But  never  mind, 
dear,  tell  me  what  they  are.  Begin  with  the  worst, 
and  if  I  haven't  time  to  hear  them  all  now,  I'll  find 
time  another  day.     Begin  with  the  worst." 

But  she  waited  in  vain  for  an  answer,  and  became 
distressed  herself  at  Ellen's  distress,  which  was 
extreme. 

"  Don't   cry  so,  my   child, — don't  cry  so,"  she 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  235 

said,  pressing  her  in  her  arms.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter ?  hardly  anything  in  this  world  is  so  bad  it  can't 
be  mended.  I  think  I  know  what  troubles  you  so 
— it  is  that  your  dear  mother  is  away  from  you, 
isn't  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am  !  " — Ellen  could  scarcely  artic- 
ulate. But  struggling  with  herself  for  a  minute 
or  two,  she  then  spoke  again  and  more  clearly. 

"  The  worst  is, — oh,  the  worst  is — that  I  meant 
— I  meant — to  he  a  good  child,  and  I  have  been 
worse  than  ever  I  was  in  my  life  before." 

Her  tears  gushed  forth. 

"  But  how,  Ellen  ?  "  said  her  surprised  friend 
after  a  pause.  "  I  don't  quite  understand  you. 
When  did  you  '  mean  to  be  a  good  child  '  ?  Didn't 
you  always  mean  so  ?  and  what  have  you  been 
doing  ?  " 

Ellen  made  a  great  effort  and  ceased  crying ; 
straightened  herself ;  dashed  away  her  tears  as  if 
determined  to  shed  no  more ;  and  presently  spoke 
calmly,  though  a  choking  sob  every  now  and  then 
threatened  to  interrupt  her. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  ma'am.  That  first  day  I  left 
mamma — when  I  was  on  board  the  steamboat,  and 
feeling  as  badly  as  I  could  feel,  a  kind,  kind  gentle- 
man, I  don't  know  who  he  was,  came  to  me  and 
spoke  to  me,  and  took  care  of  me  the  whole  day. 
Oh,  if  I  could  see  him  again  !  He  talked  to  me  a 
Teat  deal ;  he  wanted  me  to  be  a  Christian  ;  he 
wanted  me  to  make  up  my  mind  to  begin  that  day 
to  be  one ;  and,  ma'am,  I  did.  I  did  resolve  with 
my  whole  heart,  and  I  thought  I  should  be  different 
from  that  time  from  what  I  had  ever  been  before. 
But  I  think  I  have  never  been  so  bad  in  my  life  as  I 


236  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

have  been  since  then.  Instead  of  feeling-  right,  I 
have  felt  wrong  all  the  time,  almost, — and  I  can't 
help  it.  I  have  been  passionate  and  cross,  and 
bad  feelings  keep  coming,  and  I  know  it's  wrong, 
and  it  makes  me  miserable.  And  yet,  oh  !  ma'am, 
I  haven't  changed  my  mind  a  bit, — I  think  just  the 
Same  as  I  did  that  day ;  I  want  to  be  a  Christian 
more  than  anything  else  in  the  world,  but  I  am 
not, — and  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Her  face  sank  in  her  hands  again. 

"  And  this  is  your  great  trouble  ? "  said  her 
friend. 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  remember  who  said,  *  Come  unto  Me 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest '  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  You  are  grieved  to  find  yourself  so  unlike  what 
you  would  be.  You  wish  to  be  a  child  of  the  dear 
Saviour,  and  to  have  your  heart  filled  with  His  love 
and  to  do  what  will  please  Him.  Do  you  ? — Have 
you  gone  to  Him  day  by  day,  and  night  by  night, 
and  told  Him  so  ? — have  you  begged  Him  to  give 
you  strength  to  get  the  better  of  your  wrong  feel- 
ings, and  asked  Him  to  change  you  and  make  you 
His  child  ?  " 

"  At  first  I  did,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Not  lately?" 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  "  in  a  low  tone  still  and  looking 
down. 

"  Then  you  have  neglected  your  Bible  and  prayel 
for  some  time  past  ?  " 

Ellen  hardly  uttered,  "  Yes." 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  23? 

"  Why,  my  child  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  weeping,— 
"that  is  one  of  the  things  that  made  me  think  my- 
self so  very  wicked.  I  couldn't  like  to  read  my 
Bible  or  pray  either,  though  I  always  used  to  before* 
My  Bible  lay  down  quite  at  the  bottom  of  my  trunk, 
and  I  even  didn't  like  to  raise  my  things  enough  to> 
see  the  cover  of  it.  I  was  so  full  of  bad  feelings  I 
didn't  feel  fit  to  pray  or  read  either." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  the  way  with  the  wisest  of  us,"  said 
her  companion  ;  "  how  apt  we  are  to  shrink  most 
from  our  Physician  just  when  we  are  in  most  need 
of  Him.  But,  Ellen  dear,  that  isn't  right.  No 
hand  but  His  can  touch  that  sickness  you  are  com- 
plaining of.  Seek  it,  love,  seek  it.  He  will  hear 
and  help  you,  no  doubt  of  it,  in  every  trouble  you 
carry  simply  and  humbly  to  His  feet; — He  has 
promised,  you  know." 

Ellen  was  weeping  very  much,  but  less  bitterly 
than  before ;  the  clouds  were  breaking  and  light 
beginning  to  shine  through. 

"  Shall  we  pray  together  now  ?  "  said  her  com- 
panion, after  a  few  minutes'  pause. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,  ma'am  do  !  "  Ellen  answered 
through  her  tears. 

And  they  knelt  together  there  on  the  moss  be* 
side  the  stone,  where  Ellen's  head  rested  and  her 
friend's  folded  hands  were  laid.  It  might  have 
been  two  children  speaking  to  their  father,  for  the 
simplicity  of  that  prayer  ;  difference  of  age  seemed 
to  be  forgotten,  and  what  suited  one  suited  the 
other.  It  was  not  without  difficulty  that  the 
speaker  carried  it  calmly  through,  for  Ellen's  sobs 
went  nigh  to  check  her  more  than   once.     When 


ttf  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

they  rose  Ellen  silently  sought  her  friend's  arms 
again,  and  laying  her  face  on  her  shoulder  and  put- 
ting both  arms  round  her  neck,  she  wept  still, — but 
what  different  tears  !  It  was  like  the  gentle  rain 
falling  through  sunshine,  after  the  dark  cloud  and 
the  thunder  and  the  hurricane  have  passed  by. 
And  they  kissed  each  other  before  either  of  them 
spoke. 

"  You  will  not  forget  your  Bible  and  prayer  again, 
Ellen?" 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  you  will  find  your  causes  of 
trouble  grow  less.  I  will  not  hear  the  rest  of  them 
now.  In  a  day  or  two  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to 
give  me  a  very  different  account  from  what  you 
would  have  done  an  hour  ago  ;  but  besides  that  it 
is  getting  late,  and  it  will  not  do  for  us  to  stay  too 
long  up  here ;  you  have  a  good  way  to  go  to  reach 
home.  Will  you  come  and  see  me  to-morrow  after- 
noon ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  indeed  I  will ! — if  I  can  ; — and 
if  you  will  tell  me  where." 

"  Instead  of  turning  up  this  little  rocky  path  you 
must  keep  straight  on  in  the  road, — that's  all ;  and 
it's  the  first  house  you  come  to.  It  isn't  very  far 
from  here.  Where  were  you  going  on  the  mount- 
ain ?  " 

"  Nowhere,  ma'am." 

"  Have  you  been  any  higher  up  than  this  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Then  before  we  go  away  I  want  to  show  you 
something.  I'll  take  you  over  the  Bridge  of  the 
Nose  ;  it  isn't  but  a  step  or  two  more  ;  a  little 
tough  to  be  sure,  but  you  mustn't  mind  that." 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  239 

% 

"  What  is  the  '  Bridge  of  the  Nose,'  ma'am  ?  " 
said  Ellen,  as  they  left  her  resting-place,  and  began 
to  toil  up  the  path,  which  grew  more  steep  and 
rocky  than  ever. 

"  You  know  this  mountain  is  called  the  Nose. 
Just  here  it  runs  out  to  a  very  thin  sharp  edge. 
We  shall  come  to  a  place  presently  where  you  turn 
a  very  sharp  corner  to  get  from  one  side  of  the  hill 
to  the  other  ;  and  my  brother  named  it  jokingly 
the  Bridge  of  the  Nose." 

"  Why  do  they  give  the  mountain  such  a  queer 
name  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  The  people  say  that 
from  one  point  of  view  this  side  of  it  looks  very 
like  a  man's  nose  ;  but  I  never  could  find  it  out,  and 
have  some  doubt  about  the  fact.  But  now  here 
we  are  !  Just  come  round  this  great  rock, — mind 
how  you  step.  Ellen, — now  look  there  !  " 

The  rock  they  had  just  turned  was  at  their  backs, 
and  they  looked  towards  the  west.  Both  exclaimed 
at  the  beauty  before  them.  The  view  was  not  so 
extended  as  the  one  they  had  left.  On  the  north 
and  south,  the  broken  wavy  outline  of  mountains 
closed  in  the  horizon  ;  but  far  to  the  west  stretched 
an  opening  between  the  hills  through  which  the  set- 
ting sun  sent  his  long  beams,  even  to  their  feet.  In 
the  distance  all  was  a  golden  haze  ;  nearer,  on  the 
right  and  left,  the  hills  were  lit  up  singularly,  and 
there  was  a  most  beautiful  mingling  of  deep  hazy 
shadow  and  bright  glowing  mountain  sides  and 
ridges.  A  glory  was  upon  the  valley.  Far  down 
below  at  their  feet  lay  a  large  lake  gleaming  in  the 
sunlight ;  and  at  the  upper  end  of  it  a  village  of 
some  size  showed  like  a  cluster  of  white  dots. 


240  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  said  the  lady  again.  "  Ellen 
dear, — He  whose  hand  raised  up  those  mountains 
and  has  painted  them  so  gloriously  is  the  very  same 
One  who  has  said,  to  you  and  to  me,  *  Ask  and  it 
shall  be  given  you.'  " 

Ellen  looked  up ;  their  eyes  met ;  her  answer 
was  in  that  grateful  glance. 

The  lady  sat  down  and  drew  Ellen  close  to  her. 

"Do  you  see  that  little  white  village  yonder, 
down  at  the  far  end  of  the  lake  ;  that  is  the  village 
of  Carra-carra  ;  and  that  is  Carra-carra  lake  ;  that 
is  where  I  go  to  church ;  you  cannot  see  the  little 
church  from  here.  My  father  preaches  there  every 
Sunday  morning." 

"  You  must  have  a  long  way  to  go,"   said  Ellen. 

"  Yes — a  pretty  long  way,  but  it's  very  pleasant, 
though.  I  mount  my  little  gray  pony,  and  he 
carries  me  there  in  quick  time,  when  I  will  let  him.  I 
never  wish  the  way  shorter.  I  go  in  all  sorts  of 
weathers  too,  Ellen  ;  Sharp  and  I  don't  mind  frost 
and  snow." 

"  Who  is  Sharp  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  My  pony.  An  odd  name,  isn't  it  ?  It  wasn't 
of  my  choosing,  Ellen,  but  he  deserves  it  if  ever 
pony  did.  He's  a  very  cunning  little  fellow. 
Where  do  you  go,  Ellen  ?  to  Thirlwall  ?  " 

"  To  church,  ma'am  ? — I  don't  go  anywhere." 

"  Doesn't  your  aunt  go  to  church  ?  " 

"  She  hasn't  since  I  have  been  here." 

"  What  do  you  do  with  yourself  on  Sunday  ? " 

"  Nothing,  ma'am  ;  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
myself  all  the  day  long.  I  get  tired  of  being  in  the 
house,  and  I  go  out  of  doors,  and  then  I  get  tired 
of  being  out  of  doors  and  come  in  again.     I  wanted 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  241 

a  kitten  dreadfully,  but  Mr.  Van  Brunt  said  Aunt 
Fortune  would  not  let  me  keep  one." 

"  Did  you  want  a  kitten  to  help  you  keep  Sunday, 
Ellen  ?  "  said  her  friend,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  I  did,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  again  ; 
— "  I  thought  it  would  be  a  great  deal  of  company 
for  me.  I  got  very  tired  of  reading  all  day  long, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  read  but  the  Bible  ;  and  you 
know,  ma'am,  I  told  you  I  have  been  all  wrong 
ever  since  I  came  here,  and  I  didn't  like  to  read 
that  much." 

"  My  poor  child !  "  said  the  lady, — "  you  have 
been  hardly  bestead,  I  think.  What  if  you  were  to 
come  and  spend  next  Sunday  with  me  ?  Don't  you 
think  I  should  do  instead  of  a  kitten  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Ellen,  cling- 
ing to  her.  "  Oh,  I'll  come  gladly  if  you  will  let  me, 
— and  if  Aunt  Fortune  will  let  me  ;  and  I  hope  she 
will,  for  she  said  last  Sunday  I  was  the  plague  of 
her  life." 

"What  did  you  do  to  make  her  say  so?"  said 
her  friend,  gravely. 

"  Only  asked  her  for  some  books,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  see  I  am  getting  upon  another 
of  your  troubles,  and  we  haven't  time  for  that  now. 
By  your  own  account  you  have  been  much  in  fault 
yourself ;  and  I  trust  you  will  find  all  things  mend 
with  your  own  mending.  But  now  there  goes  the 
sun  ! — and  you  and  I  must  follow  his  example." 

The  lake  ceased  to  gleam,  and  the  houses  of  the 
village  were  less  plainly  to  be  seen  ;  still  the  mount- 
ain heads  were  as  bright  as  ever.  Gradually  the 
shadows  crept  up  their  sides  while  the  gray  of 
evening  settled  deeper  and  deeper  upon  the  valley. 
16 


242  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"There,"  said  Ellen, — "that's  just  what  I  was 
wondering  at  the  other  morning ;  only  then  the 
light  shone  upon  the  top  of  the  mountains  first  and 
walked  down,  and  now  it  leaves  the  bottom  first  and 
walks  up.  I  asked  Mr.  Van  Brunt  about  it  and  he 
could  not  tell  me.  That's  another  of  my  troubles, 
— there's  nobody  that  can  tell  me  anything." 

"  Put  me  in  mind  of  it  to-morrow,  and  I'll  try  to 
make  you  understand  it,"  said  the  lady,  "  but  we 
must  not  tarry  now.  I  see  you  are  likely  to  find 
me  work  enough,  Ellen." 

"  I'll  not  ask  you  a  question,  ma'am,  if  you  don't 
like  it,"  said  Ellen,  earnestly. 

"  I  do  like,  I  do  like,"  said  the  other.  "  I 
spoke  laughingly,  for  I  see  you  will  be  apt  to  ask 
me  a  good  many.    As  many  as  you  please,  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  as  they  ran 
(Jown  the  hill ;  "  they  keep  coming  into  my  head  all 
the  while." 

It  was  easier  going  down  than  coming  up.  They 
soon  arrived  at  the  place  where  Ellen  had  left  the 
road  to  take  the  wood-path. 

"  Here  we  part,"  said  the  lady.     "  Good-night !  " 

"  Good-night,  ma'am." 

There  was  a  kiss  and  a  squeeze  of  the  hand,  but 
when  Ellen  would  have  turned  away  the  lady  still 
held  her  fast. 

"  You  are  an  odd  little  girl,"  said  she.  "  I  gave 
you  liberty  to  ask  me  questions." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  doubtfully. 

"  There  is  a  question  you  have  not  asked  me  that 
I  have  been  expecting.     Do  you  know  who  I  am  ? n 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Don't  vou  want  to  know  ?  " 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  243 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  very  much,"  said  Ellen,  laughing 
at  her  friend's  look,  "  but  mamma  told  me  never 
to  try  to  find  out  anything  about  other  people  that 
they  didn't  wish  me  to  know,  or  that  wasn't  my 
business." 

"  Well,  I  think  this  is  your  business,  decidedly. 
Who  are  you  going  to  ask  for  when  you  come  to 
see  me  to-morrow  ?  Will  you  ask  for  *  the  young 
lady  that  lives  in  this  house  ? '  or  will  you  give  a 
description  of  my  nose  and  eyes  and  inches? " 

Ellen  laughed. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  the  lady,  changing  her 
tone,  "  do  you  know  you  please  me  very  much  ? 
For  one  person  that  shows  herself  well-bred  in  this 
matter  there  are  a  thousand,  I  think,  that  ask  im- 
pertinent questions.  I  am  very  glad  you  are  an 
exception  to  the  common  rule.  But,  dear  Ellen,  I 
am  quite  willing  you  should  know  my  name — it  is 
Alice  Humphreys.  Now  kiss  me  again  and  run 
home  ;  it  is  quite,  quite  time ;  I  have  kept  you  too 
late.  Good-night,  my  dear  !  Tell  your  aunt  I  beg 
she  will  allow  you  to  take  tea  with  me  to-morrow." 

They  parted  ;  and  Ellen  hastened  homewards, 
urged  by  the  rapidly  growing  dusk  of  the  evening. 
She  trod  the  green  turf  with  a  step  lighter  and 
quicker  than  it  had  been  a  few  hours  before,  and 
she  regained  her  home  in  much  less  time  than  it 
had  taken  her  to  come  from  thence  to  the  mountain. 
Lights  were  in  the  kitchen,  and  the  table  set ;  but 
though  weary  and  faint  she  was  willing  to  forego 
her  supper  rather  than  meet  her  aunt  just  then  ; 
so  she  stole  quietly  up  to  her  room.  She  did  not 
forget  her  friend's  advice.  She  had  no  light ;  she 
could  not  read  ;  but  Ellen  did  pray.     She  did  carry 


244  rHE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

all  her  heart-sickness,  her  wants  and  her  woes  to 
that  Friend  whose  ear  is  always  open  to  hear  the 
cry  of  those  who  call  upon  Him  in  truth  ;  and  then, 
relieved,  refreshed,  almost  healed,  she  went  to  bed 
and  slept  sweetly. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

After  long  storms  and  tempests  overblowne, 
The  sunne  at  length  his  joyous  face  doth  cleare  ; 
So  whenas  fortune  all  her  spight  hath  showne, 
Some  blissful  houres  at  last  must  needs  appeare ; 
Else  should  afflicted  wights  oft-times  despeire. 

Faerie  Qubenb. 

Early  next  morning  Ellen  awoke  with  a  sense 
that  something  pleasant  had  happened.  Then 
the  joyful  reality  darted  into  her  mind,  and  jump- 
ing out  of  bed  she  set  about  her  morning  work 
with  a  better  heart  than  she  had  been  able  to  bring 
to  it  for  many  a  long  day.  When  she  had  finished 
she  went  to  the  window.  She  had  found  out  how 
to  keep  it  open  now,  by  means  of  a  big  nail  stuck 
in  a  hole  under  the  sash.  It  was  very  early,  and 
in  the  perfect  stillness  the  soft  gurgle  of  the  little 
brook  came  distinctly  to  her  ear.  Ellen  leaned 
her  arms  on  the  window-sill,  and  tasted  the  morn- 
ing air ;  almost  wondering  at  its  sweetness  and  at 
the  loveliness  of  field  and  sky  and  the  bright  eastern 
horizon.  For  days  and  days  all  had  looked  dark 
and  sad. 

There  were  two  reasons  for  the  change.  In  the 
first  place,  Ellen  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go 
straight  on  in  the  path  of  duty ;  in  the  second 
place,  she  had  found  a  friend.  Her  little  heart 
bounded  with  delight  and  swelled  with  thankfulness 
at   the    thought    of    Alice    Humphreys.     She    was 


THE  WIDE.    WIDE   WORLD  245 

once  more  at  peace  with  herself,  and  had  even 
some  notion  of  being  by  and  by  at  peace  with 
her  aunt  ;  though  a  sad  twinge  came  over  her 
whenever  she  thought  of  her  mother's  letter. 

"But  there  is  only  one  way  fcr  me,"  she 
thought  ;  "  I'll  do  as  that  dear  Miss  Humphreys 
told  me — it's  good  and  early,  and  I  shall  have  a 
fine  time  before  breakfast  yet  to  myself.  And 
I'll  get  up  so  every  morning  and  have  it  ! — 
that'll  be  the  very  best  plan  I  can  hit  upon. " 

As  she  thought  this  she  drew  forth  her  Bible 
from  its  place  at  the  bottom  of  her  trunk  ;  and 
opening  it  at  hazard,  she  began  to  read  the  18th 
chapter  of  Matthew.  Some  of  it  she  did  not  quite 
understand,  but  she  paused  with  pleasure  at  the 
14th  verse.  "That  means  me."  she  thought.  The 
21st  and  22d  verses  struck  her  agooddeal,  but 
when  she  came  to  the  last  she  was  almost  startled. 

"There  it  is  again  !  "  she  said.  "  That  is  ex- 
actly what  that  gentleman  said  to  me.  I  thought 
I  was  forgiven,  but  how  can  I  be,  for  I  feel  I 
have  not  forgiven  Aunt  Fortune/' 

Laying  aside  her  book,  Ellen  kneeled  down  ;; 
but  this  one  thought  so  pressed  upon  her  mind 
that  she  could  think  of  scarce  anything  else; 
and  her  prayer  this  morning  was  an  urgent  and 
repeated  petition  that  she  might  be  enabled 
"from  her  heart"  to  forgive  her  Aunt  Fortune 
"  all  her  trespasses."  Poor  Ellen !  she  felt  it  was 
very  hard  work.  At  the  very  minute  she  was 
striving  to  feel  at  peace  with  her  aunt,  one 
grievance  after  another  would  start  up  to  re- 
membrance, and  she  knew  the  feelings  that  met 
them  were  far  enough  from  the  spirit  of  for- 
giveness.    In  the  midst  of  this   she  was  called 


246  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

down.  She  rose  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  ' ■  What 
shall  I  do  ?  "  in  her  heart.  Bowing  her  head  once 
more  she  earnestly  prayed  that  if  she  could  not  yet 
feel  right  towards  her  aunt,  she  might  be  kept 
at  least  from  acting  or  speaking  wrong.  Poor 
Ellen  !  In  the  heart  is  the  spring  of  action  ; 
and  she  found  it  so  this  morning. 

Her  aunt  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  were  already  at 
the  table.  Ellen  took  her  place  in  silence,  for 
one  look  at  her  aunt's  face  told  her  that  no 
"  good-morning "  would  be  accepted.  Miss 
Fortune  was  in  a  particularly  bad  humor,  owing 
among  other  things  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  having 
refused  to  eat  his  breakfast  unless  Ellen  were 
called.  An  unlucky  piece  of  kindness.  She 
neither  spoke  to  Ellen  nor  looked  at  her  ;  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  did  what  in  him  lay  to  make  amends. 
He  helped  her  very  carefully  to  che  cold  pork 
.and  potatoes,  and  handed  her  the  well-piled 
platter  of  griddle-cakes. 

"  Here's  the  first  buckwheats  or  the  season," 
said  he,  "and  I  told  Miss  Fortune  I  warn't 
a-going  to  eat  one  on  'em  if  you  didn't  come 
down  to  enjoy  'em  along  with  us.  Take  two — 
take  two ! — you  want'em  to  keep  each  other  hot. " 

Ellen's  look  and  smile  thanked  him,  as  fol- 
lowing his  advice  she  covered  one  generous 
"buckwheat  "  with  another  as  ample. 

"  That's  the  thing  !  Now,  here's  some  prime 
maple.     You  like  'em,  I  guess,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet — I  have  never  seen  any." 

"  Never  seen  buckwheats  !  why,  they're  most 
as  good  as  my  mother's  splitters.  Buckwheat  cakes 
and  maple  molasses — that's  food  fit  for  a  king,  I 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  247 

thtnk — when  they're  good  ;  and  Miss  Fortune's  is 
always  first  rate." 

Miss  Fortune  did  not  relent  at  all  at  this  com- 
pliment. 

"  What  makes  you  so  white  this  morning  ? "  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  presently  went  on  ; — "  you  ain't  well, 
be  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,  doubtfully,—"  I'm  well " 

"  She's  as  well  as  I  am,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  if  you 
don't  go  and  put  her  up  to  any  notions  !  "  Miss 
Fortune  said,  in  a  kind  of  choked  voice. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  hemmed,  and  said  no  more  to  the 
end  of  breakfast-time. 

Ellen  rather  dreaded  what  was  to  come  next,  for 
her  aunt's  look  was  ominous.  In  dead  silence  the 
things  were  put  away,  and  put  up,  and  in  course  of 
washing  and  drying,  when  Miss  Fortune  suddenly 
broke  forth. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  yourself  yesterday  after- 
noon ? " 

"  I  was  up  on  the  mountain,"  said  Ellen. 

"  What  mountain  ?  " 

"  I  believe  they  call  it  the  *  Nose.'  " 

"  What  business  had  you  up  there  ?  " 

"  I  hadn't  any  business  there." 

"  What  did  you  go  there  for  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Nothing  ! — you  expect  me  to  believe  that  ?  you 
call  yourself  a  truth-teller,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Mamma  used  to  say  I  was,"  said  poor  Ellen, 
striving  to  swallow  her  feelings. 

"  Your  mother  ! — I  dare  say — mothers  always  are 
blind.  I  dare  say  she  took  everything  you  said  for 
gospel ! " 


248  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

Ellen  was  silent,  from  sheer  want  of  words  that 
were  pointed  enough  to  suit  her. 

"  I  wish  Morgan  could  have  had  the  gumption  to 
marry  in  his  own  country ;  but  he  must  go  running 
after  a  Scotchwoman  !  A  Yankee  would  have 
brought  up  his  child  to  be  worth  something.  Give 
me  Yankees  !  " 

Ellen  set  down  the  cup  she  was  wiping. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  my  mother,'* 
she  said.  "  You  oughtn't  to  speak  so — it's  not 
right." 

"  Why  air  'tit  right,  I  should  like  to  know?" 
said  Miss  Fortune  ; — "  this  is  a  free  country,  I 
guess.     Our  tongues  ain't  tied — we're  all  free  here." 

"  I  wish  we  were,"  muttered  Ellen ; — "  I  know 
what  I'd  do." 

M  What  would  you  do  ?  "  said  Miss  Fortune. 

Ellen  was  silent.  Her  aunt  repeated  the  ques- 
tion in  a  sharper  tone. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  say  what  I  was  going  to,"  said 
Ellen  ;— "  I'd  rather  not." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  you  began, 
and  you  shall  finish  it.     I  will  hear  what  it  was." 

"  I  was  going  to  say,  if  we  were  all  free  I  would 
run  away." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  beautiful,  well-behaved  speech  ! 
I  am  glad  to  have  heard  it.  I  admire  it  very 
much.  Now,  what  were  you  doing  yesterday  up 
on  the  Nose  ?  Please  to  go  on  wiping.  There's  a 
pile  ready  for  you.  What  were  you  doing  yester- 
day  afternoon  ? " 

Ellen  hesitated. 

"  Were  you  alone  or  with  somebody  ? " 

u  I  was  alone  part  of  the  time." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  24.9 

u  And  who  were  you  with  the  rest  of  the  time?" 

"  Miss   Humphreys." 

"  Miss  Humphreys  ! — what  were  you  doing,  with 
her?" 

"Talking." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  her  before  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"Where  did  you  find  her?" 

"  She  found  me,  up  on  the  hill." 

"  What  were  you  talking  about  ?  " 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  What  were  you  talking  about  ?  "  repeated  Miss 
Fortune. 

"  I  had  rather  not  tell." 

"  And  I  had  rather  you  should  tell — so  out  with 
it." 

"  I  was  alone  with  Miss  Humphreys,"  said  Ellen,. 
"  and  it  is  no  matter  what  we  were  talking  about — 
it  doesn't  concern  anybody  but  her  and  me." 

"Yes,  it  does,  it  concerns  me,"  said  her  aunt, 
"  and  I  choose  to  know  ; — what  were  you  talking 
about  ? " 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  low  but  resolutely. 

"  I  vow  you're  enough  to  try  the  patience  of  Job  ! 
Look  here,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  setting  down  what 
she  had  in  her  hands, — "  I  will  know !  I  don't 
care  what  it  was,  but  you  shall  tell  me  or  I'll  find  a, 
way  to  make  you.     I'll  give  you  such  a " 

"  Stop  J  stop  !  "  said  Ellen,  wildly, — "  you  must 
not  speak  to  me  so  !  Mamma  never  did,  and  you 
have  no  right  to  !  If  mamma  or  oapa  were  here 
you  would  not  dare  talk  to  me  so." 


250  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

The  answer  to  this  was  a  sharp  box  on  the  eat 
from  Miss  Fortune's  wet  hand.  Half  stunned,  less 
by  the  blow  than  the  tumult  of  feeling  it  roused, 
Ellen  stood  a  moment,  and  then,  throwing  down 
her  towel,  she  ran  out  of  the  room,  shivering  with 
passion,  and  brushing  off  the  soapy  water  left  on 
lier  face,  as  if  it  had  been  her  aunt's  very  hand. 
Violent  tears  burst  forth  as  soon  as  she  reached 
her  own  room, — tears  at  first  of  anger  and  mortifi- 
cation only ;  but  conscience  presently  began  to 
whisper,  "  You  are  wrong  !  you  are  wrong  ! — "  and 
tears  of  sorrow  mingled  with  the  others. 

"Oh,"  said  Ellen,  "why  couldn't  I  keep  still ! — 
when  I  resolved  so  this  morning,  why  couldn't  I  be 
quiet ! — But  she  ought  not  to  have  provoked  me  so 
dreadfully, — I  couldn't  help  it."  "  You  are  wrong," 
said  conscience  again,  and  her  tears  flowed  faster. 
And  then  came  back  her  morning  trouble — the 
duty  and  the  difficulty  of  forgiving.  Forgive  her 
Aunt  Fortune  ! — with  her  whole  heart  in  a  passion 
of  displeasure  against  her.  Alas  !  Ellen  began  to 
feel  and  acknowledge  that  indeed  all  was  wrong. 
But  what  to  do  ?  There  was  just  one  comfort,  the 
visit  to  Miss  Humphreys  in  the  afternoon.  "  She 
will  tell  me,"  thought  Ellen  ;  "  she  will  help  me. 
But  in  the  meanwhile  ?  " 

Ellen  had  not  much  time  to  think;  her  aunt 
called  her  down  and  set  her  to  work.  She  was 
very  busy  till  dinner-time,  and  very  unhappy  ;  but 
twenty  times  in  the  course  of  the  morning  did 
Ellen  pause  for  a  moment,  and  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands  pray  that  a  heart  to  forgive  might 
be  given  her. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  dinner  she  made   her 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  251 

escape  to  her  room  that  she  might  prepare  for  her 
walk.  Conscience  was  not  quite  easy  that  she 
was  going  without  the  knowledge  of  her  aunt. 
She  had  debated  the  question  with  herself,  and 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  hazard  losing  her 
visit. 

So  she  dressed  herself  very  carefully.  One  of 
her  dark  merinoes  was  affectionately  put  on ;  her 
single  pair  of  white  stockings  ;  shoes,  ruffle,  cape, 
— Ellen  saw  that  all  was  faultlessly  neat,  just  as 
her  mother  used  to  have  it ;  and  the  nice  blue 
hood  lay  upon  the  bed  ready  to  be  put  on  the  last 
thing,   when    she   heard  her  aunt's  voice    calling, 

"  Ellen  ! — come  down  and  do  your  ironing — 
right  away,  now  ! — the  irons  are  hot." 

For  one  moment  Ellen  stood  still  in  dismay; 
then  slowly  undressed,  dressed  again,  and  went 
downstairs. 

"  Come  !  you've  been  an  age,"  said  Miss  Fortune  ; 
"  now  make  haste  ;  there  ain't  but  a  handful ;  and 
I  want  to  mop  up." 

Ellen  took  courage  again  ;  ironed  away  with  right 
good  will ;  and  as  there  Was  really  but  a  handful 
of  things,  she  had  soon  done,  even  to  taking  off 
the  ironing  blanket  and  putting  up  the  irons.  In 
the  mean  time  she  had  changed  her  mind  as  to- 
stealing  off  without  leave  5  conscience  was  too  strong 
for  her  ;  and  though  with  a  beating  heart,  she  told 
of  Miss  Humphreys'  desire  and  her  half  engage- 
ment. 

"  You  may  go  where  you  like — I  am  sure  I  do 
not  care  what  you  do  with  yourself,"  was  Miss 
Fortune's  reply. 

Full  of    delight  at  this   ungracious  permission. 


252  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  fled  upstairs,  and,  dressing  much  quicker 
than  before,  was  soon  on  her  way. 

But,  at  first,  she  went  rather  sadly.  In  spite 
of  all  her  good  resolves  and  wishes,  everything 
that  day  had  gone  wrong;  and  Ellen  felt  that 
the  root  of  the  evil  was  in  her  own  heart.  Some 
tears  fell  as  she  walked.  Further  from  her 
aunt's  house,  however,  her  spirits  began  to  rise; 
her  foot  fell  lighter  on  the  greensward.  Hope 
and  expectation  quickened  her  steps ;  and  when 
at  length  she  passed  the  little  wood-path  it  was 
almost  on  a  run.  Not  very  far  beyond  that  her 
glad  eyes  saw  the  house  she  was  in  quest  of. 

It  was  a  large  white  house ;  not  very  white, 
either,  for  its  last  dress  of  paint  had  grown  old 
long  ago.  It  stood  close  by  the  road,  and  the 
trees  of  the  wood  seemed  to  throng  it  round  on 
every  side.  Ellen  mounted  the  few  steps  that 
led  to  the  front  door  and  knocked ;  but  as  she 
could  only  just  reach  the  high  knocker,  she  was 
not  likely  to  alarm  anybody  with  the  noise  she 
made.  After  a  great  many  little  faint  raps,  which 
if  anybody  heard  them  might  easily  have  been 
mistaken  for  the  attacks  of  some  rat's  teeth  upon 
the  wainscot,  Ellen  grew  weary  of  her  fruitless 
toil  and  of  standing  on  tiptoe,  and  resolved, 
though  doubtfully,  to  go  round  the  house  and  see 
if  there  was  any  other  way  of  getting  in.  Turn- 
ing the  far  corner,  she  saw  a  long,  low  out-build- 
ing or  shed,  jutting  out  from  the  side  of  the 
house.  On  the  further  side  of  this  Ellen  found 
an  elderly  woman,  standing  in  front  of  the  shed, 
which  was  there  open  and  paved,  and  wring- 
ing some  clothes  out  of  a  tub  of  water.  She 
was  a  pleasant  woman  to  look  at,  very  trim  and 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  253 

tidy,  and  a  good-humored  eye  and  smile  when  she 
saw  Ellen.  Ellen  made  up  to  her  and  asked  for 
Miss  Humphreys. 

"  Why,  where  in  the  world  did  you  come  from  ? " 
said  the  woman.  "  I  don't  receive  company  at  the 
back  of  the  house." 

"  I  knocked  at  the  front  door  till  I  was  tired," 
said  Ellen,  smiling  in  return. 

"  Miss  Alice  must  ha'  been  asleep.  Now, 
honey,  you  have  come  so  far  round  to  find  me,  will 
you  go  a  little  further  and  find  Miss  Alice  ?  Just 
go  round  this  corner  and  keep  straight  along  till 
you  come  to  the  glass  door — there  you'll  find  her. 
Stop  ! — maybe  she's  asleep  ;  I  may  as  well  go 
along  with  you  myself." 

She  wrung  the  water  from  her  hands,  and  led 
the  way. 

A  little  space  of  green  grass  stretched  in  front  of 
the  shed,  and  Ellen  found  it  extended  all  along 
that  side  of  the  house  like  a  very  narrow  lawn; 
at  the  edge  of  it  shot  up  the  high  forest  trees; 
nothing  between  them  and  the  house  but  the 
smooth  grass  and  a  narrow  worn  footpath.  The 
woods  were  now  all  brown  stems,  except  here  and 
there  a  superb  hemlock  and  some  scattered  silvery 
birches.  But  the  grass  was  still  green,  and  the 
last  day  of  the  Indian  summer  hung  its  soft  veil 
over  all ;  the  foliage  of  the  forest  was  hardly 
missed.  They  passed  another  hall  door,  opposite 
the  one  where  Ellen  had  tried  her  strength  and 
patience  upon  the  knocker ;  a  little  further  on  they 
paused  at  the  glass  door.  One  step  led  to  it. 
Ellen's  conductress  looked  in  first  through  one  of 
the  panes,  and  then  opening  the  door  motioned 
her  to  enter. 


254  THh    WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Here  you  are,  my  new  acquaintance,"  said 
Alice,  smiling  and  kissing  her.  "  I  began  to  think 
something  was  the  matter,  you  tarried  so  late.  We 
don't  keep  fashionable  hours  in  the  country,  you 
know.  But  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.  Take  off 
your  things  and  lay  them  on  that  settee  by  the 
door.  You  see  I've  a  settee  for  summer  and  a 
sofa  for  winter ;  for  here  I  am,  in  this  room,  at  all 
times  of  the  year ;  and  a  very  pleasant  room  I 
think  it,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  do,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  pulling 
off  her  last  glove. 

"  Ah,  but  wait  till  you  have  taken  tea  with  me 
half  a  dozen  times,  and  then  see  if  you  don't  say 
it  is  pleasant.  Nothing  can  be  so  pleasant  that  is 
quite  new.  But  now  come  here  and  look  out  of 
this  window,  or  door,  whichever  you  choose  tc  call 
it.  Do  you  see  what  a  beautiful  view  I  have  here  ? 
The  wood  was  just  as  thick  all  along  as  it  is  on 
the  right  and  left;  I  felt  half  smothered  to  be  so 
shut  in ;  so  I  got  my  brother  and  Thomas  to  take 
axes  and  go  to  work  there ;  and  many  a  large  tree 
they  cut  down  for  me,  till  you  see  they  opened  a 
way  through  the  woods  for  the  view  of  that  beauti- 
ful stretch  of  country.  I  should  grow  melancholy 
if  I  had  that  wall  of  trees  pressing  on  my  vision  all 
the  time  ;  it  always  comforts  me  to  look  off,  far 
away,  to  those  distant  blue  hills." 

"  Aren't  those  the  hills  I  was  looking  at  yester- 
day ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  From  up  on  the  mountain  ? — the  very  same  ; 
this  is  part  of  the  very  same  view,  and  a  noble 
view  it  is.  Every  morning,  Ellen,  the  sun  rising 
behind  those  hills  shines  in  through  this  door  and 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  255 

lights  up  my  room  ;  and  in  winter  he  looks  in  at 
that  south  window,  so  I  have  him  all  the  time.  To 
be  sure  it  I  want  to  see  him  set  I  must  take  a  walk 
for  it,  but  that  isn't  unpleasant ;  and  you  know  we 
cannot   have  everything  at  once." 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  extent  of  woodland, 
meadow,  and  hill  that  was  seen  picture-fashion 
through  the  gap  cut  in  the  forest ; — the  wall  of 
trees  on  each  side  serving  as  a  frame  to  shut  it  in, 
and  the  descent  of  the  mountain,  from  almost  the 
edge  of  the  lawn,  being  very  rapid.  The  opening 
had  been  skillfully  cut ;  the  effect  was  remarkable 
and  very  fine ;  the  light  on  the  picture  being  often 
quite  different  from  that  on  the  frame  or  on  the 
hither  side  of  the  frame. 

"  Now,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  turning  from  the  win- 
dow, "  take  a  good  look  at  my  room.  I  want  you 
to  know  it  and  feel  at  home  in  it ;  for  whenever 
you  can  run  away  from  your  aunt's  this  is  your 
home, — do  you  understand  ?  " 

A  smile  was  on  each  face.  Ellen  felt  that  she 
was  understanding  it  very  fast. 

"  Here,  next  the  door,  you  see,  is  my  summer 
settee ;  and  in  summer  it  very  often  walks  out  of 
doors  to  accommodate  people  on  the  grass-plat.  I 
have  a  great  fancy  for  taking  tea  out  of  doors, 
Ellen,  in  warm  weather  ;  and  if  you  do  not  mind  a 
mosquito  or  two,  I  shall  be  always  happy  to  have 
your  company.  That  door  opens  into  the  hall ; 
look  out  and  see,  for  I  want  you  to  get  the  geog- 
raphy of  the  house. — That  odd-looking,  lumbering, 
painted  concern  is  my  cabinet  of  curiosities.  I 
tried  my  best  to  make  the  carpenter  man  at  Thirl- 
wall  understand  what  sort  of  a  thing  I  wanted,  and 


356  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

did  all  but  show  him  how  to  make  it ;  but,  as  the 
Southerners  say,  '  he  hasn't  made  it  right  nohow  ! ' 
There  I  keep  my  dried  flowers,  my  minerals,  and  a 
very  odd  collection  of  curious  things  of  all  sorts 
that  I  am  constantly  picking  up.  I'll  show  you 
them  some  day,  Ellen.  Have  you  a  fancy  for  curi- 
osities ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  believe  so." 

"  Believe  so  ! — not  more  sure  than  that  ?  Are 
you  a  lover  of  dead  moths,  and  empty  beetle-skins, 
and  butterflies'  wings,  and  dry  tufts  of  moss,  and 
curious  stones,  and  pieces  of  ribbon-grass,  and 
strange  birds'  nests  ?  These  are  some  of  the  things 
I  used  to  delight  in  when  I  was  about  as  old  as 
you." 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  never 
was  where  I  could  get  them." 

"  Weren't  you  ?  Poor  child  !  Then  you  have 
been  shut  up  to  brick  walls  and  paving  stones  all 
your  life  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  all  my  life." 

"  But  now  you  have  seen  a  little  of  the  country, 
— don't  you  think  you  shall  like  it  better  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  great  deal  better  !  " 

"  Ah  !  that's  right.  I  am  sure  you  will.  On  that 
other  side,  you  see,  is  my  winter  sofa.  It's  a  very 
comfortable  resting-place,  I  can  tell  you,  Ellen,  as 
I  have  proved  by  many  a  sweet  nap ;  and  its  old 
chintz  covers  are  very  pleasant  to  me,  for  I  remem- 
ber them  as  far  back  as  I  remember  anything." 

There  was  a  sigh  here ;  but  Alice  passed  on  and 
opened  a  door  near  the  end  of  the  sofa. 

"  Look  in  here,  Ellen  ;  this  is  my  bedroom." 

"  Oh,  how  lovely  !  "  Ellen  exclaimed. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  257 

The  carpet  covered  only  the  middle  of  the  floor ; 
the  rest  was  painted  white.  The  furniture  was 
common,  but  neat  as  wax.  Ample  curtains  of 
white  dimity  clothed  the  three  windows  and  lightly 
draped  the  bed.  The  toilet-table  was  covered  with 
snow-white  muslin,  and  by  the  toilet-cushion  stood, 
late  as  it  was,  a  glass  of  flowers.  Ellen  thought  it 
must  be  a  pleasure  to  sleep  there, 

"This,"  said  Alice,  when  they  came  out, — "be- 
tween my  door  and  the  fireplace,  is  a  cupboard. 
Here  be  cups  and  saucers,  and  so  forth.  In  fcfeat 
other  corner  beyond  the  fireplace  you  see  my 
flower-stand.     Do  you  love  flowers,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  I  love  them  dearly,  Miss  Alice." 

"  I  have  some  pretty  ones  out  yet,  and  shall  have 
one  or  two  in  the  winter ;  but  I  can't  keep  a  great 
many  here  ;  I  haven't  room  for  them.  I  have  hard 
work  to  save  these  from  frost.  There's  a  beautiful 
Daphne  that  will  be  out  by  and  by,  and  make  the 
whole  house  sweet.  But,  here,  Ellen,  on  this  side 
between  the  windows,  is  my  greatest  treasure — my 
precious  books.  All  these  are  mine. — Now,  my 
dear,  it  is  time  to  introduce  you  to  my  most  excel- 
lent  of  easy-chairs — the  best  things  in  the  room, 
aren't  they?  Put  yourself  in  that — now,  do  you 
feel  at  home  ?  " 

"  Very  much  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  laugh- 
ing, as  Alice  placed  her  in  the  deep  easy-chair. 

There  were  two  things  in  the  room  that  Alice 
had  not  mentioned,  and  while  she  mended  the  fire 
Ellen  looked  at  them.  One  was  the  portrait  of  a 
gentleman,  grave  and  good-looking ;  this  had  very 
little  of  her  attention.  The  other  was  a  counter- 
portrait  of  a  lady;  a  fine,  dignified  countenance 


258  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

that  had  a  charm  for  Ellen.  It  hung  over  the  fire- 
place in  an  excellent  light ;  and  the  mild  eye  and 
somewhat  of  a  peculiar  expression  about  the  mouth 
bore  such  likeness  to  Alice,  though  older,  that 
Ellen  had  no  doubt  whose  it  was. 

Alice  presently  drew  a  chair  close  to  Ellen's  side 
and  kissed  her. 

"  I  trust,  my  child,"  she  said,  "  that  you  feel 
better  to-day  than  you  did  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do,  ma'am, — a  great  deal  better,"  Ellen 
answered. 

"  Then,  I  hope  the  reason  is  that  you  have  re- 
turned to  your  duty,  and  are  resolved,  not  to  be  a 
Christian  by  and  by,  but  to  lead  a  Christian's  life 
now  ? " 

"  I  have  resolved  so,  ma'am, — I  did  resolve  so 
last  night  and  this  morning, — but  yet  I  have  been 
doing  nothing  but  wrong  all  to-day." 

Alice  was  silent.  Ellen's  lips  quivered  for  a 
moment,  and  then  she  went  on  : 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  how  I  have  wanted  to  see  you  to- 
day to  tell  me  what  I  should  do  !  I  resolved  and 
resolved  this  morning,  and  then  as  soon  as  I  got 
downstairs  I  began  to  have  bad  feelings  towards 
Aunt  Fortune,  and  I  have  been  full  of  bad  feelings 
all  day ;  and  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  we  cannot  help  what 
is  wrong,  Ellen. — What  is  the  reason  that  you  have 
bad  feelings  towards  your  aunt  ?  " 

"  She  don't  like  me,  ma'am." 

"  But  how  happens  that,  Ellen  ?  I  am  afraid  yoi 
don't  like  her." 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  don't,  to  be  sure ;  how  can  I  ?  M 

"  Why  cannot  you,  Ellen  ? 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  259 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  ma'am  !  I  wish  I  could.  But,  oh, 
ma'am,  I  should  have  liked  her — I  might  have 
liked  her,  if  she  had  been  kind,  but  she  never  has. 
Even  that  first  night  I  came  she  never  kissed  me^ 
nor  said  she  was  glad  to  see  me." 

"  That  was  failing  in  kindness,  certainly,  but  is 
she  w/zkind  to  you,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  indeed  she  is.  She  talks  to 
me,  and  talks  to  me,  in  a  way  that  almost  drives 
me  out  of  my  wits ;  and  to-day  she  even  struck  me  ! 
She  has  no  right  to  do  it,"  said  Ellen,  firing  with 
passion, — "  she  has  no  right  to  ! — and  she  has  no 
right  to  talk  as  she  does  about  mamma.  She  did 
it  to-day,  and  she  has  done  it  before  •, — I  can't  bear 
it ! — and  I  can't  bear  her  !  I  can't  bear  her  !  " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  Alice,  drawing  the  excited 
child  to  her  arms,  for  Ellen  had  risen  from  her 
seat ; — "  you  must  not  talk  so,  Ellen  ; — you  are  not 
feeling  right  now." 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  am  not,"  said  Ellen,  coldly  and 
sadly.  She  sat  a  moment,  and  then  turning  to  her 
companion  put  both  arms  around  her  neck,  and  hid 
her  face  on  her  shoulder  again ;  and  without  rais- 
ing it  she  gave  her  the  history  of  the  morning. 

"  What  has  brought  about  this  dreadful  state  of 
things  ? "  said  Alice,  after  a  few  minutes.  "  Whose 
fault  is  it,  Ellen  ? " 

"  I  think  it  is  Aunt  Fortune's  fault,"  said  Ellen, 
raising  her  head  ;  "  I  don't  think  it  is  mine.  If 
she  had  behaved  well  to  me  I  should  have  behaved 
well  to  her.     I  meant  to,  I  am  sure." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  do  not  think  you  have 
been  in  fault  at  all  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am — I   do  not  mean  to  say  that     1 


2 Go  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

have  been  very  much  in  fault — very  often — I  know 
that.  I  get  very  angry  and  vexed,  and  sometimes 
I  say  nothing,  but  sometimes  I  get  out  of  all  pa- 
tience and  say  things  I  ought  not.  I  did  so  to-day  ; 
but  it  is  so  very  hard  to  keep  still  when  I  am  in 
such  a  passion ; — and  now  I  have  got  to  feel  so  to- 
wards Aunt  Fortune  that  I  don't  like  the  sight  of 
her ;  I  hate  the  very  look  of  her  bonnet  hanging  up 
on  the  wall.  I  know  it  isn't  right ;  and  it  makes 
me  miserable ;  and  I  can't  help  it,  for  I  grow  worse 
and  worse  every  day  * — and  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Ellen's  tears  came  faster  than  her  words. 

"  Ellen,  my  child,"  said  Alice,  after  a  while, — 
"  there  is  but  one  way.  You  know  what  I  said  to 
you  yesterday  ? " 

"  I  know  it,  but,  dear  Miss  Alice,  in  my  reading, 
this  morning,  I  came  to  that  verse  that  speaks 
about  not  being  forgiven  if  we  do  not  forgive 
others  ;  and  oh !  how  it  troubles  me ;  for  I  can't 
feel  that  I  forgive  Aunt  Fortune ;  I  feel  vexed 
whenever  the  thought  of  her  comes  into  my  head ; 
and  how  can  I  behave  right  to  her  while  I  feel 
so  ?  " 

"  You  are  right  there,  my  dear ;  you  cannot  in- 
deed ;  the  heart  must  be  set  right  before  the  life 
can  be." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  to  set  it  right  ?  " 

"  Pray." 

"  Dear  Miss  Alice,  I  have  been  praying  all  this 
morning  that  I  might  forgive  Aunt  Fortune,  and 
yet  I  cannot  do  it." 

"  Pray  still,  my  dear,"  said  Alice,  pressing  her 
closer  in  her  arms, — "pray  still;  if  you  are  in 
earnest  the  answer  will  come.     But  there  is  some* 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  26 1 

thing  else  you  can  do,  and  must  do,  Ellen,  besides 
praying,  or  praying  may  be  in  vain." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Alice  ? " 

"  You  acknowledge  yourself  in  fault — have  you 
made  all  the  amends  you  can  ?  Have  you,  as 
soon  as  you  have  seen  yourself  in  the  wrong,  gone 
to  your  Aunt  Fortune  and  acknowledged  it,  and 
humbly  asked  her  pardon  ? " 

Ellen  answered,  "  No,"  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Then,  my  child,  your  duty  is  plain  before  you. 
The  next  thing  after  doing  wrong  is  to  make  all  the 
amends  in  your  power  ;  confess  your  fault,  and  ask 
forgiveness,  both  of  God  and  man.  Pride  strug- 
gles against  it, — I  see  yours  does, — but,  my  child, 
*  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto 
the  humble.'" 

Ellen  burst  into  tears  and  cried  heartily. 

"  Mind  your  own  wrong-doings,  my  child,"  and 
you  will  not  be  half  so  disposed  to  quarrel  with 
those  of  other  people.  But,  Ellen  dear,  if  you 
will  not  humble  yonrself  to  this,  you  must  not 
count  upon  an  answer  to  your  prayer.  '  If  thou 
bring  thy  gift  to  the  altar,  and  there  rememberest 
that  thy  brother  hath  aught  against  thee,' — what 
then  ? — '  Leave  there  thy  gift  before  the  altar ; '  go 
first  and  be  reconciled  to  thy  brother,  and  then 
come." 

"  But  it  is  so  hard  to  forgive ! "  sobbed  Ellen. 

"  Hard  ?  yes  !  it  is  hard  when  our  hearts  are  so. 
But  there  is  lictle  love  to  Christ  and  no  just  sense 
of  His  love  to  us  in  the  heart  that  finds  it  hard. 
Pride  and  selfishness  make  it  hard  ;  the  heart  full 
of  love  to  the  dear  Saviour  ca?i7iot  lay  up  offenses 
against  itself." 


262  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  have  said  quite  enough,"'  said  Alice,  after  a 
pause  :  "  you  know  what  you  want,  my  dear  Ellen, 
and  what  you  ought  to  do.  I  shall  leave  you  for  a 
little  while  to  change  my  dress,  for  I  have  been 
walking  and  riding  all  the  morning.  Make  a  good 
use  of  the  time  while  I  am  gone." 

Ellen  did  make  good  use  of  the  time.  When 
Alice  returned,  she  met  her  with  another  face  than 
she  had  worn  all  that  day,  humbler  and  quieter ; 
and  flinging  her  arms  around  her,  she  said, 

"  I  will  ask  Aunt  Fortune's  forgiveness^, — I 
feel  I  can  do  it  now." 

"  And  how  about  forgiving,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  I  think  God  will  help  me  to  forgive  her,"  said 
Ellen ;  "  I  have  asked  Him.  At  any  rate  I  will 
ask  her  to  forgive  me.  But,  oh,  Miss  Alice  !  what 
would  have  become  of  me  without  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  lean  upon  me,  dear  Ellen  ;  remember 
you  have  a  better  Friend  than  I  always  near  you  ; 
trust  in  Him  ;  if  I  have  done  you  any  good,  don't 
forget  it  was  He  brought  me  to  you  yesterday 
afternoon." 

"  There's  just  one  thing  that  troubles  me  now," 
said  Ellen,  — "  mamma's  letter.  I  am  thinking  of 
it  all  the  time  ;  I  feel  as  if  I  should  fly  to  get  it  !  " 

"  We'll  see  about  that.  Cannot  you  ask  your 
aunt  for  it  ?" 

"I  don't  like  to." 

"  Take  care,  Ellen  ;  there's  some  pride  there  yet." 

"Well,  I  will  try,"  said  Ellen,  "but  sometimes, 
I  know,  she  would  not  give  it  to  me  if  I  were  to 
ask  her.     But  I'll  try,  if  I  can." 

"  Well,  now,  to  change  the  subject — at  what 
o'clock  did  you  dine  to-day  ? " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  263 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am, — at  the  same  time  we 
always  do,  I  believe." 

"  And  that  is  twelve  o'clock,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  but  I  was  so  full  of  coming  here 
and  other  things  that  I  couldn't  eat." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  would  have  no  objection 
to  an  early  tea  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am, — whenever  you  please,"  said  Ellen, 
laughing. 

"  I  shall  please  it  pretty  soon.  I  have  had  no 
dinner  at  all  to-day,  Ellen  ;  I  have  been  out  and 
about  all  the  morning,  and  had  just  taken  a  little 
nap  when  you  came  in.  Come  this  way  and  let  me 
show  you  some  of  my  housekeeping." 

She  led  the  way  across  the  hall  to  the  room  on 
the  opposite  side ;  a  large,  well-appointed  and 
spotlessly  neat  kitchen.  Ellen  could  not  help 
exclaiming  at  its  pleasantness. 

w  Why,  yes, — I  think  it  is.  I  have  been  in 
many  a  parlor  that  I  do  not  like  as  well.  Beyond 
this  is  a  lower  kitchen  where  Margery  does  all  her 
rough  work ;  nothing  comes  up  the  steps  that 
lead  from  that  to  this  but  the  very  nicest  and 
daintiest  of  kitchen  matters.  Margery,  is  my 
father  gone  to  Thirlwall  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Alice — he's  at  Carra-carra — Thomas 
heard  him  say  he  wouldn't  be  back  early." 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  wait  for  him.  Margery,  if  you 
will  put  the  kettle  on  and  see  to  the  fire,  I'll  make 
some  of  my  cakes  for  tea." 

"  I'll  do  it,  Miss  Alice  ;  it's  not  good  for  you  to 
go  so  long  without  eating." 

Alice  now  rolled  up  her  sleeves  above  the  elbows, 
and  tying  a  large  white  apron  before  her,  set  about 


264  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

gathering  the  different  things  she  wanted  for  her 
work, — to  Ellen's  great  amusement.  A  white 
molding-board  was  placed  upon  a  table  as  white  ; 
and  round  it  soon  grouped  the  pail  of  flour,  the 
plate  of  nice  yellow  butter,  the  bowl  of  cream,  the 
sieve,  tray,  and  sundry  etceteras.  And,  then,  first 
sifting  some  flour  into  the  tray,  Alice  began  to 
throw  in  the  other  things  one  after  another  and 
toss  the  whole  about  with  a  carelessness  that 
looked  as  if  all  would  go  wrong,  but  with  a  con- 
fidence that  seemed  to  say  all  was  going  right. 
Ellen  gazed  in  comical  wonderment. 

"  Did  you  think  cakes  were  made  without 
hands  ? "  said  Alice,  laughing  at  her  look.  "  You 
saw  me  wash  mine  before  I  began." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  thinking  of  that,"  said  Ellen;  "I 
am  not  afraid  of  your  hands." 

"  Did  you  never  see  your  mother  do  this?  "  said 
Alice,  who  was  now  turning  and  rolling  about  the 
dough  upon  the  board  in  a  way  that  seemed  to 
Ellen  curious  beyond  expression. 

"  No,  never,"  she  said.  "  Mamma  never  kept 
house,  and  I  never  saw  anybody  do  it." 

"Then  your  aunt  does  not  let  you  into  the 
mysteries  of  bread  and  butter  making  ?  " 

"Butter-making!  Oh,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  have  enough  of  that  !  " 

Alice  now  applied  a  smooth  wooden  roller  to  the 
cake,  with  such  quickness  and  skill  that  the  lump 
forthwith  lay  spread  upon  the  board  in  a  thin  even 
layer,  and  she  next  cut  it  into  little  round  cakes 
with  the  edge  of  a  tumbler.  Half  the  board  was 
covered  with  the  nice  little  white  things,  which 
Ellen  declared  looked  good  enough  to  eat  already, 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  265 

and  she  had  quite  forgotten  all  possible  causes  of 
vexation,  past,  present,  or  future, — when  suddenly 
a  large  gray  cat  jumped  upon  the  table,  and  coolly 
walking  upon  the  molding-board,  planted  his  paw 
directly  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  mistress's 
cakes. 

"Take  him  off— oh,  Ellen!"  cried  Alice,— 
"  take  him  off !     I  can't  touch  him." 

But  Ellen  was  a  little  afraid. 

Alice  then  gently  tried  to  shove  puss  off  with  her 
•elbow ;  but  he  seemed  to  think  that  was  very  good 
fun, — purred,  whisked  his  great  tail  over  Alice's 
bare  arm,  and  rubbed  his  head  against  it,  having 
•evidently  no  notion  that  he  was  not  just  where  he 
ought  to  be.  Alice  and  Ellen  were  too  much 
amused  to  try  any  violent  method  of  relief,  but 
Margery  happily  coming  in,  seized  puss  in  both 
hands  and  set  him  on  the  floor. 

"  Just  look  at  the  print  of  his  paw  in  that  cake," 
said  Ellen. 

"  He  has  set  his  mark  on  it  certainly.  I  think 
it  is  his  now,  by  the  right  of  possession,  if  not  the 
right  of  discovery." 

"I  think  he  discovered  the  cakes  too,"  said 
Ellen,  laughing. 

"  Why,  yes,  he  shall  have  that  one  baked  for  his 
supper." 

"  Does  he  like  cakes  ?  " 

"  Indeed  he  does.  He  is  very  particular  and 
delicate  about  his  eating,  is   Captain  Parry." 

"  Captain  Parry  !  "  said  Ellen, — "  is  that  his 
name  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Alice,  laughing ;  "  I  don't  wonder 
you  look  astonished,  Ellen.     I  have  had  that  cat 


266  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

five  years,  and  when  he  was  first  given  me  my 
brother  Jack,  who  was  younger  then  than  he  is  now, 
and  had  been  reading  Captain  Parry's  Voyages,  gave 
him  that  name  and  would  have  him  called  so.  Oh, 
Jack  !  " — said  Alice,  half  laughing  and  half  crying. 

Ellen  wondered  why.  But  she  went  to  wash 
her  hands,  and  when  her  face  was  again  turned  to 
Ellen  it  was  unruffled  as  ever. 

"  Margery,  my  cakes  are  ready,"  said  she,  "  and 
Ellen  and  I  are  ready  too." 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Alice — the  kettle  is  just  going 
to  boil ;  you  shall  have  tea  in  a  trice.  I'll  do  some 
eggs  for  you." 

"  Something — anything,"  said  Alice  ;  "  I  feel 
one  cannot  live  without  eating.  Come,  Ellen,  you 
and  I  will  go  and  set  the  tea-table." 

Ellen  was  very  happy  arranging  the  cups  and 
saucers  and  other  things  that  Alice  handed  her  from 
the  cupboard ;  and  when  a  few  minutes  after  the 
tea  and  the  cakes  came  in,  and  she  and  Alice  were 
cosily  seated  at  supper,  poor  Ellen  hardly  knew 
herself  in  such  a  pleasant  state  of  things. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  very  sooth  of  it  is,  that  an  ill-habit  has  the  force  of  an  ill-fate. 

L' Estrange. 

"  Ellen  dear,"  said  Alice,  as  she  poured  out 
Ellen's  second  cup  of  tea,  "  have  we  run  through 
the  list  of  your  troubles  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Alice,  indeed  we  haven't ;  but  we 
have  got  through  the  worst." 

"  Is  the  next  one  so  bad  it  would  spoil  our  sup- 
per?" 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  "  it  couldn't  do  that,  but  it's 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  267 

bad  enough  though  ;  it's  about  my  not  going  ta 
school.  Miss  Alice,  I  promised  myself  I  would 
learn  so  much  while  mamma  was  away,  and  surprise 
her  when  she  came  back,  and  instead  of  that  I'm 
not  learning  anything.  I  don't  mean  not  learning 
anything"  said  Ellen,  correcting  herself  ; — "  but  I 
can't  do  much.  When  I  found  Aunt  Fortune  wasn't 
going  to  send  me  to  school,  I  determined  I  would 
try  to  study  by  myself ;  and  I  have  tried ;  but  I 
can't  get  along." 

"Well,  now,  don't  lay  down  your  knife  and  fork 
and  look  so  doleful,"  said  Alice,  smiling ;  "this  is 
a  matter  I  can  help  you  in.  What  are  you  study- 
ing?'' 

"  Some  things  I  can  manage  well  enough,"  said 
Ellen,  "  the  easy  things ;  but  I  cannot  understand 
my  arithmetic  without  some  one  to  explain  it  to  me, 
and  French  I  can  do  nothing  at  all  with,  and  that 
is  what  I  wanted  to  learn  most  of  all ;  and  often  I 
want  to  ask  questions  about  my  history." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Alice,  "  you  go  on  studying  by 
yourself  as  much  and  as  well  as  you  can,  and 
bring  your  books  up  to  me  two  or  three  times  a 
week  ;  I  will  hear  and  explain  and  answer  ques- 
tions to  your  heart's  content,  unless  you  should  be 
too  hard  for  me.     What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

Ellen  said  nothing  to  it,  but  the  color  that  rushed 
to  her  cheeks, — the  surprised  look  of  delight, — 
were  answer  enough. 

"  It  will  do,  then,"  said  Alice ;  "  and  I  have  no 
doubt  we  shall  untie  the  knot  of  those  arithmetical 
problems  very  soon.  But,  Ellen,  my  dear,  I  cannot 
help  you  in  French,  for  I  do  not  know  it  myself. 
What  will  you  do  about  that  ? " 


268  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am  ;  I  am  sorry." 

"  So  am  I,  for  your  sake.  I  can  help  you  in 
Latin,  if  that  would  be  any  comfort  to  you." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  much  comfort  tome,"  said  Ellen, 
laughing ;  "  mamma  wanted  me  to  learn  Latin, 
but  I  wanted  to  learn  French  a  great  deal  more.  I 
don't  care  about  Latin  except  to  please  her." 

"  Permit  me  to  ask  if  you  know  English  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  I  hope  so  ;  I  knew  that  a  great 
while  ago." 

"  Did  you  ?  I  am  very  happy  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  then,  for  the  number  of  young  ladies 
who  do  know  English  is  in  my  opinion  remarkably 
small.     Are  you  sure  of  the  fact,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  Miss  Alice." 

"  Will  you  undertake  to  write  me  a  note  of  two 
pages  that  shall  not  have  one  fault  of  grammar,  nor 
one  word  spelt  wrong,  nor  anything  in  it  that  is  not 
good  English  ?  You  may  take  for  a  subject  the 
history  of  this  afternoon." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  if  you  wish  it.  I  hope  I  can  write 
a  note  that  long  without  making  mistakes." 

Alice  smiled. 

"  I  will  not  stop  to  inquire,"  she  said,  "  whether 
that  long  is  Latin  or  French  ;  but,  Ellen,  my  dear, 
it  is  not  English." 

Ellen  blushed  a  little,  though  she  laughed  too. 

"  I  believe  I  have  got  into  the  way  of  saying  that 
by  hearing  Aunt  Fortune  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  say 
it;  I  don't  think  I  ever  did  before  I  came  here." 

"  What  are  you  so  anxious  to  learn  French  for  ?  " 

"  Mamma  knows  it,  and  I  have  often  heard  her 
talk  French  with  a  great  many  people  ;  and  papa 
and  I  always  wanted  to  be  able  to  talk  it  too  ;  and 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  269 

mamma  wanted  me  to  learn  it ;  she  said  there  were 
a  great  many  French  books  I  ought  to  read." 

"That  last  is  true,  no  doubt.  Ellen,  I  will  make 
a  bargain  with  you, — if  you  will  study  English  with 
me,  I  will  study  French  with  you." 

"  Dear  Miss  'Alice,"  said  Ellen,  caressing  her; 
"I'll  do  it  without  that;  I'll  study  anything  you 
please." 

"  Dear  Ellen,  I  believe  you  would.  But  I  should 
like  to  know  it  for  my  own  sake ;  we'll  study  it 
together ;  we  shall  get  along  nicely,  I  have  no 
doubt ;  we  can  learn  to  read  it  at  least,  and  that  is 
the  main  point." 

"  But  how  shall  we  know  what  to  call  the  words  ? " 
said  Ellen,  doubtfully. 

"That  is  a  grave  question,"  said  Alice,  smiling. 
"  I  am  afraid  we  should  hit  upon  a  style  of  pro- 
nunciation that  a  Frenchman  would  make  nothing 
of.  I  have  it !  "  she  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands, 
— "  where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way, — it  always 
happens  so.  Ellen,  I  have  an  old  friend  up  on  the 
mountain  who  will  give  us  exactly  what  we  want, 
unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken.  We'll  go  and  see 
her ;  that  is  the  very  thing  ! — my  old  friend,  Mrs. 
Vawse." 

"  Mrs.  Vawse  !  "  repeated  Ellen  ;  "  not  the  grand- 
mother of  that  Nancy  Vawse  ?  " 

"  The  very  same.  Pier  name  is  not  Vawse,  the 
country  people  call  it  so,  and  I  being  one  of  the 
country  people  have  fallen  into  the  way  of  it ;  but 
her  real  name  is  Vosier.  She  was  born  a  Swiss, 
and  brought  up  in  a  wealthy  French  family,  as  the 
personal  attendant  of  a  young  lady  to  whom  she 
became  exceedingly  attached.     This  lady   finally 


270 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


married  an  American  gentleman  ;  and  so  great  was 
Mrs.  Vawse's  love  to  her  that  she  left  country  and 
family  to  follow  her  here.  In  a  few  years  her  mis- 
tress died ;  she  married ;  and  since  that  time  she 
has  been  tossed  from  trouble  to  trouble  ; — a  perfect 
sea  of  troubles  ; — till  now  she  is  left  like  a  wreck 
upon  this  mountain-top.  A  fine  wreck  she  is  !  I 
go  to  see  her  very  often,  and  next  time  I  will  call 
for  you,  and  we  will  propose  our  French  plan ; 
nothing  will  please  her  better,  I  know.  By  the 
way,  Ellen,  are  you  as  well  versed  in  the  other  com- 
mon branches  of  education  as  you  are  in  your 
mother-tongue  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Alice  ?  " 

"  Geography,  for  instance  ;  do  you  know  it  well  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I  believe  so ;  I  am  sure  I  have 
studied  it  till  I  am  sick  of  it." 

"  Can  you  give  me  the  boundaries  of  Great 
Thibet  or  Peru  ?  " 

Ellen  hesitated. 

"  I  had  rather  not  try,"  she  said, — "  I  am  not 
sure.  I  can't  remember  those  queer  countries  in 
Asia  and  South  America  half  so  well  as  Europe  and 
North  America." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  surface  of  the 
country  in  Italy  or  France  ;  the  character  and  con- 
dition of  the  people  ;  what  kind  of  climate  they 
have,  and  what  grows  there  most  freely  ? " 

"Why,  no,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen;  "nobody  ever 
taught  me  that." 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  over  the  Atlas  again,  talk- 
ing about  all  these  matters,  as  well  as  the  mere 
outlines  of  the  countries  you  have  studied  before  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dearly  ?  "  exclaimed  Ellen. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  271 

"  Well,  I  think  we  may  let  Margery  have  the 
tea-things.     But  here  is  Captain's  cake." 

"  Oh,  may  I  give  him  his  supper  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Certainly.  You  must  carve  it  for  him  ;  you 
know  I  told  you  he  is  very  particular.  Give  him 
some  of  the  egg,  too — he  likes  that.  Now,  where 
is  the  Captain  ?  " 

Not  far  off ;  for  scarcely  had  Alice  opened  the 
door  and  called  him  once  or  twice,  when  with  a 
queer  little  note  of  answer  he  came  hurriedly  trot- 
ting in. 

"  He  generally  has  his  supper  in  the  outer 
kitchen,"  said  Alice, — "  but  I  grant  him  leave  to 
have  it  here  to-night  as  a  particular  honor  to  him 
and  you." 

"  How  handsome  he  is  !  and  how  large  !  "  said 
Ellen. 

"Yes,  he  is  very  handsome,  and  more  than  that, 
he  is  very  sensible,  for  a  cat.  Do  you  see  how 
prettily  his  paws  are  marked  ?  Jack  used  to  say 
he  had  white  gloves  on." 

"  And  white  boots  too,"  said  Ellen.  "  No,  only 
one  leg  is  white  ;  pussy's  boots  aren't  mates.  Is  he 
good-natured  ?  " 

"  Very — if  you  don't  meddle  with  him." 

"  I  don't  call  that  being  good-natured,"  said 
Ellen,  laughing. 

"  Nor  I ;  but  truth  obliges  me  to  say  the  Captain 
does  not  permit  anybody  to  take  liberties  with  him. 
He  is  a  character,  Captain  Parry.  Come  out  oa 
the  lawn,  Ellen,  and  we  will  let  Margery  clear 
away." 

"  What  a  pleasant  face  Margery  has,"  said  Ellen, 
as   the   door   closed   behind  them ;  "  and  what   a 


272  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

pleasant  way  she  has  of  speaking.  I  like  to  heat 
her, — the  words  come  out  so  clear,  and  I  don't 
know  how,  but  not  like  other  people." 

"  You  have  a  quick  ear,  Ellen  ;  you  are  very 
right  Margery  had  lived  too  long  in  England  be- 
fore she  came  here  to  lose  her  trick  of  speech 
afterwards.  But  Thomas  speaks  as  thick  as  a 
Yankee,  and  always  did.'' 

"  Then  Margery  is  English  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  To  be  sure.  She  came  over  with  us  twelve 
years  ago  for  the  pure  love  of  my  father  and  mother ; 
and  I  believe  now  she  looks  upon  John  and  me  as 
her  own  children.  I  think  she  could  scarcely  love 
us  more  ifjwe  were  so  in  truth.  Thomas — you 
haven't  seen  Thomas  yet,  have  you  ? " 

"  No.'; 

"  He  is  an  excellent  good  man  in  his  way,  and  as 
faithful  as  the  day  is  long ;  but  he  isn't  equal  to 
his  wife.  Perhaps  I  am  partial ;  Margery  came  to 
America  for  the  love  of  us,  and  Thomas  came  for 
the  love  of  Margery ;  there's  a  difference." 

"  But,  Miss  Alice  !  " 

"What,  Miss  Ellen?" 

"  You  said  Margery  came  over  with  you  I " 

"  Yes  ;  is  that  what  makes  you  look  so  aston- 
ished?" 

"  But  then  you  are  English  too  ? 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ?  you  won't  love  me  the  less, 
will  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  my  own  mother  came 
from  Scotland,  Aunt  Fortune  says." 

"  I  am  English  born,  Ellen,  but  you  may  count 
me  half  American  if  you  like,  for  I  have  spent 
rather  more  than  half  my  life  here.     Come  this  way, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  273 

Ellen,  and  I'll  show  you  my  garden.  It  is  some 
distance  off,  but  as  near  as  a  spot  could  be  found 
fit  for  it." 

They  quitted  the  house  by  a  little  steep  path  lead- 
ing down  the  mountain,  which  in  two  or  three 
minutes  brought  them  to  a  clear  bit  of  ground.  It 
was  not  large,  but  lying  very  prettily  among  the 
trees,  with  an  open  view  to  the  east  and  southeast. 
On  the  extreme  edge,  and  at  the  lower  end  of  it, 
was  fixed  a  rude  bench,  well  sheltered  by  the  tower- 
ing forest  trees.     Here  Alice  and  Ellen  sat  down. 

It  was  near  sunset ;  the  air  cool  and  sweet ;  the 
evening  light  upon  field  and  sky. 

"  How  fair  it  is  !  "  said  Alice,  musingly  ;  "  how 
fair  and  lovely  !  Look  at  those  long  shadows  of 
the  mountains,  Ellen ;  and  how  bright  the  light  is 
on  the  far  hills.  It  won't  be  so  long.  A  little 
while  more,  and  our  Indian  summer  will  be  over; 
and  then  the  clouds,  the  frost,  and  the  wind,  and 
the  snow.     Well,  let  them  come." 

"  I  wish  they  wouldn't,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ellen. 
"I  am  sorry  enough  they  are  coming." 

"Why? — all  seasons  have  their  pleasures.  I  am 
not  sorry  at  all;  I  like  the  cold  very  much." 

"  I  guess  you  wouldn't,  Miss  Alice,  if  you  had  to 
ivash  every  morning  where  I  do." 

"  Why,  where  is  that  ?  " 

"Down  at  the  spout." 

"  At  the  spout — what  is  that,  pray  ? " 

"  The  spout  of  water,  ma'am,  just  down  a  little 
way  from  the  kitchen  door.  The  water  comes  in  a 
little  long,  very  long,  trough  from  a  spring  at  the 
back  of  the  pig-field,  and  at  the  end  of  the  trough, 
where  it  pours  out,  is  the  spout." 
18 


274  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


Have  you  no  conveniences  for  washing  in  youl 


room 


"  Not  a  sign  of  such  a  thing,  ma'am.  I  have 
washed  at  the  spout  ever  since  I  have  been  here," 
said  Ellen,  laughing  in  spite  of  her  vexation. 

"  And  do  the  pigs  share  the  water  with  you  ? " 

"The  pigs?  Oh,  no,  ma'am;  the  trough  is 
raised  up  from  the  ground  on  little  heaps  of  stones  ; 
they  can't  get  at  the  water, — unless  they  drink  at 
the  spring,  and  I  don't  think  they  do  that,  so  many 
big  stones  stand  around  it." 

"  Well,  Ellen,  I  must  say  that  it  is  rather  uncom- 
fortable, even  without  any  danger  of  four-footed 
society." 

"It  isn't  so  bad  just  now,"  said  Ellen,  "  in  this 
warm  weather,  but  in  that  cold  time  we  had  a  week 
or  two  back,  do  you  remember,  Miss  Alice  ? — just 
before  the  Indian  summer  began  ? — oh,  how  dis- 
agreeable it  was  !  Early  in  the  morning,  you  know, 
— the  sun  scarcely  up,  and  the  cold  wind  blowing 
my  hair  and  my  clothes  all  about ;  and  then  that 
board  before  the  spout,  that  I  have  to  stand  on,  is 
always  kept  wet  by  the  spattering  of  the  water,  and 
it's  muddy  besides  and  very  slippery, — there's  a 
kind  of  green  stuff  comes  upon  it ;  and  I  can't 
stoop  down  for  fear  of  muddying  myself ;  I  have  to 
tuck  my  clothes  round  me  and  bend  over  as  well 
as  I  can,  and  fetch  up  a  little  water  to  my  face 
in  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  and  of  course  I  have  to 
do  that  a  great  many  times  before  I  get  enough. 
I  can't  help  laughing,"  said  Ellen,  "  but  it  isn't  a 
laughing  matter  for  all  that." 

"  So  you  wash  your  face  in  your  hands  and  have 
BO  pitcher  but  a  long  wooden  trough  ? — Poor  child  1 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  275 

I  am  sorry  for  you ;  I  think  you  must  have  some 
other  way  of  managing  before  the  snow  comes." 

"  The  water  is  bitter  cold  already,"  said  Ellen, 
"  it's  the  coldest  water  I  ever  saw.  Mamma  gave 
me  a  nice  dressing-box  before  I  came  away,  but  I 
found  very  soon  this  was  a  queer  place  for  a  dress- 
ing-box to  come  to.  Why,  Miss  Alice,  if  I  take  out 
my  brush  or  comb  I  haven't  any  table  to  lay  them 
on  but  one  that's  too  high,  and  my  poor  dressing- 
box  has  to  stay  on  the  floor.  And  I  haven't  a  sign 
of  a  bureau, — all  my  things  are  tumbling  about  in 
my  trunk." 

"  I  think  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  would  not 
permit  that,  at  any  rate,"  said  Alice  ;  "  if  my  things 
were  confined  to  my  trunk,  I  would  have  them  keep 
good  order  there  at  least." 

"Well,  so  they  do,"  said  Ellen, — "pretty  good 
order  ■  I  didn't  mean  '  tumbling  about '  exactly." 

"Always  try  to  say  what  you  mean  exactly. 
But  now,  Ellen  love,  do  you  know  I  must  send 
you  away  ?  Do  you  see  the  sunlight  has  quitted 
those  distant  hills  ?  and  it  will  be  quite  gone  soon. 
You  must  hasten  home." 

Ellen  made  no  answer.  Alice  had  taken  her  on 
her  lap  again,  and  she  was  nestling  there  with  her 
friend's  arms  wrapped  around  her.  Both  were 
quite  still  for  a  minute. 

"  Next  week,  if  nothing  happens,  we  will  begin 
to  be  busy  with  our  books.  You  shall  come  to  me 
Tuesday  and  Friday ;  and  all  the  other  days  you 
must  study  as  hard  as  you  can  at  home,  for  I  am 
very  particular,  I  forewarn  you." 

"  But  suppose  Aunt  Fortune  should  not  let  me 
come  ?  "  said  Ellen,  without  stirring. 


276  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  she  will.  You  need  not  speak  about  it; 
I'll  come  down  and  ask  her  myself,  and  nobody 
ever  refuses  me  anything." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  they  would,"  said    Ellen. 

"  Then  don't  you  set  the  first  example,"  said  Alice, 
laughing.  "  I  ask  you  to  be  cheerful  and  happy  and 
grow  wiser  and  better  every  day." 

"  Dear  Miss  Alice  ! — How  can  I  promise  that  ? " 

"  Dear  Ellen,  it  is  very  easy.  There  is  One  who 
has  promised  to  hear  and  answer  you  when  you  cry 
to  Him  ;  He  will  make  you  in  His  own  likeness 
again ;  and  to  know  and  love  Him  and  not  be 
happy,  is  impossible.  That  blessed  Saviour  !  " — 
said  Alice, — "  oh,  what  should  you  and  I  do  with- 
out Him,  Ellen  ? — '  as  rivers  of  waters  in  a  dry 
place ;  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary 
land  ; ' — how  beautiful !  how  true  !  how  often  I 
think  of  that." 

Ellen  was  silent,  though  entering  into  the  feeling 
of  the  words. 

"  Remember  Him,  dear  Ellen  ; — remember  your 
best  Friend.  Learn  more  of  Christ,  our  dear  Sav- 
iour, and  you  can't  help  but  be  happy.  Never  fancy 
you  are  helpless  and  friendless  while  you  have  Him 
to  go  to.  Whenever  you  feel  wearied  and  sorry, 
flee  to  the  shadow  of  that  great  rock  ;  will  you  ? — 
and  do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am, — yes,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  as  she 
lifted  her  lips  to  kiss  her  friend.  Alice  heartily  re- 
turned the  kiss,  and  pressing  Ellen  in  her  arms, 
said — 

"  Now,  Ellen,  dear  you  must  go  ;  I  dare  not  keep 
you  any  longer.  It  will  be  too  late  now,  I  fear,  before 
you  reach  home." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  277 

Quick  they  mounted  the  little  path  again,  and 
soon  were  at  the  house  ;  and  Ellen  was  putting  on 
her  things. 

"  Next  Tuesday,  remember, — but  before  that ! 
Sunday, — you  are  to  spend  Sunday  with  me  ;  come 
bright  and  early." 

"  How  early  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  early  as  you  please — before  breakfast — 
and  our  Sunday  morning  breakfasts  aren't  late, 
Ellen  ;  we  have  to  set  off  betimes  to  fo  to 
church. " 

Kisses  and  good-byes  ;  and  then  Ellen  was  run- 
ning down  the  road  at  a  great  rate,  for  twilight  was 
beginning  to  gather,  and  she  had  a  good  way  to 
go. 

She  ran  till  out  of  breath  ;  then  walked  a  while  to 
gather  breath ;  then  ran  again.  Running  down 
hill  is  a  pretty  quick  way  of  traveling ;  so  before 
very  long  she  saw  her  aunt's  house  at  a  distance. 
She  walked  now.  She  had  come  all  the  way  in 
good  spirits,  though  with  a  sense  upon  her  mind  of 
something  disagreeable  to  come  ;  when  she  saw 
the  house  this  disagreeable  something  swallowed 
up  all  her  thoughts,  and  she  walked  leisurely  on, 
pondering  what  she  had  to  do  and  what  she  was 
like  to  meet  with  in  the  doing  of  it. 

"  If  Aunt  Fortune  should  be  in  a  bad  humor — 
and  say  something  to  vex  me, — but  I'll  not  be  vexed. 
But  it  will  be  very  hard  to  help  it ;  but  I  will  not  be 
vexed ; — I  have  done  wrong,  and  I'll  tell  her  so,  and 
ask  her  to  forgive  me  ; — it  will  be  hard, — but  I'll 
do  it — I'll  say  what  I  ought  to  say,  and  then  how- 
ever she  takes  it,  I  shall  have  the  comfort  of  know- 
ing I  have  done  right."     "  But,"  said  conscience, 


278  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD 

"  you  must  not  say  it  stiffly  and  proudly  ;  you  must 
say  it  humbly  and  as  if  you  really  felt  and  meant 
it."   "  I  will,"  said  Ellen. 

She  paused  in  the  shed  and  looked  through  the 
window  to  see  what  was  the  promise  of  things 
within.  Not  good  ;  her  aunt's  steps  sounded  heavy 
and  ominous ;  Ellen  guessed  she  was  not  in  a 
pleasant  state  of  mind.  She  opened  the  door, — 
no  doubt  of  it, — the  whole  air  of  Miss  Fortune's 
figure  to  the  very  handkerchief  that  was  tied  round 
her  head,  spoke  displeasure. 

"  She  isn't  in  a  good  mood,"  said  Ellen,  as  she 
went  upstairs  to  leave  her  bonnet  and  cape  there  ; 
— "  I  never  knew  her  to  be  good-humored  when 
sheh^d  that  handkerchief  on." 

She  returned  to  the  kitchen  immediately.  Her 
aunt  was  busied  in  washing  and  wiping  the  dishes. 

"  I  have  come  home  rather  late,"  said  Ellen, 
pleasantly  ; — "  shall  I  help  you,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  " 

Her  aunt  cast  a  look  at  her. 

"  Yes,  you  may  help  me.  Go  and  put  on  a  pair 
of  white  gloves  and  a  silk  apron,  and  then  you'll  be 
ready." 

Ellen  looked  down  at  herself.  "  Oh,  my  merino  ! 
I  forgot  about  that.     I'll  go  and  change  it." 

Miss  Fortune  said  nothing,  and  Ellen  went. 

When  she  came  back  the  things  were  all  wiped 
and  as  she  was  about  to  put  some  of  them  away, 
her  aunt  took  them  out  of  her  hands,  bidding  he" 
"  go  and  sit  down  !  " 

Ellen  obeyed  and  was  mute  ;  while  Miss  Fortune 
dashed  round  with  a  display  of  energy  there  seemed 
to  be  no  particular  call  for,  and  speedily  had  every- 
thing in  its  place  and  all  straight  and  square  about 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  279 

the  kitchen.     When  she  was,  as  a  last  thing,  brush 
ing  the  crumbs  from  the  floor  into  the  fire  she  broke 
the  silence  again.     The  old  grandmother  sat  in  the 
chimney-corner,  but  she  seldom  was  very  talkative 
in  the  presence  of  her  stern  daughter. 

"  What  did  you  come  Home  for  to-night  ?  Why 
didn't  you  stay  at  Mr.  Humphreys'  ?  " 

"  Miss  Alice  didn't  ask  me." 

"  That  means,  I  sup^se,  t&$  you  would  if  she 
had  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  nid'am ;  Miss  Alice  wouldn't 
have  asked  me  to  do  anything  that  wasn't  right." 

"Oh,  no  ! — of  course  not; — Miss  Alice  is  apiece 
of  perfection  ■  everybody  says  so ;  and  I  suppose 
you'd  sing  the  same  song  who  haven't  seen  her 
three  times." 

"  Indeed  I  would,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I  could  have 
told  that  in  one  seeing.  I'd  do  anything  in  the 
world  for  Miss  Alice." 

"  Ay — I  dare  say — that's  the  way  of  it.  You 
can  show  not  one  bit  of  goodness  or  pleasantness 
to  the  person  that  does  the  most  for  you  and  has  all 
the  care  of  you, — but  the  first  stranger  that  comes 
along  you  can  be  all  honey  to  them,  and  make 
yourself  out  too  good  for  common  folks,  and  go  and 
tell  great  tales  how  you  are  used  at  home,  I  suppose 
I  am  sick  of  it !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  setting  up  the* 
andirons  and  throwing  the  tongs  and  shovel  into  the 
corner  in  a  way  that  made  the  iron  ring  again. 
"One  might  as  good  be  a  stepmother  at  once  and 
done  with  it !  Come,  mother,  it's  time  for  you  to 
go  to  bed." 

The  old  lady  rose  with  the  meekness  of  habitual 
submission,  and  went  upstairs  with   her  daughter. 


280  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  had  time  to  bethink  herself  while  they  were 
gone,  and  resolved  to  lose  no  time  when  her  aunt 
came  back  in  doing  what  she  had  to  do.  She  would 
fain  have  persuaded  herself  to  put  it  off.  "  It  is 
late,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  isn't  a  good  time.  It 
will  be  better  to  go  to  bed  now  and  ask  Aunt  Fort- 
une's pardon  to-morrow."  But  conscience  said, 
"first  be  reconciled  to  thy  brother." 

Miss  Fortune  came  downstairs  presently.  But 
before  Ellen  could  get  any  words  out  her  aunt  pre- 
vented her. 

/  "  Come,  light  your  candle  and  be  off ; — I  want 
you  out  of  the  way ;  I  can't  do  anything  with  half- 
a-dozen  people  about." 

Ellen  rose.  "  I  want  to  say  something  to  you 
first,  Aunt  Fortune." 

"  Say  it  and  be  quick ;  I  haven't  time  to  stand 
talking." 

"Aunt  Fortune,"  said  Ellen,  stumbling  over  her 
words, — "  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  know  I  was 
wrong  this  morning,  and  I  am  sorry,  and  I  hope 
you'll  forgive  me." 

A  kind  of  indignant  laugh  escaped  from  Miss 
Fortune's  lips. 

"  It's  easy  talking  ;  I'd  rather  have  acting.  I'd 
rather  see  people  mend  their  ways  than  stand  and 
make  speeches  about  them.  Being  sorry  don't  help 
the  matter  much." 

"  But  I  will  try  not  to  do  so  any  more,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  When  I  see  you  don't  I  shall  begin  to  think 
there  is  something  in  it.  Actions  speak  louder 
than  words.  I  don't  believe  in  this  jumping  into 
goodness  all  at  once." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  281 

"  Well,  I  will  try  not  to,  at  any  rate,"  said  Ellen, 
sighing. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  it.  What  has 
brought  you  into  this  sudden  fit  of  dutifulness  and 
fine  talking  ? " 

"  Miss  Alice  told  me  I  ought  to  ask  your  pardon 
for  what  I  had  done  wrong,"  said  Ellen,  scarce  able 
to  keep  from  crying ;  "  and  I  know  I  did  wrong 
this  morning,  and  I  did  wrong  the  other  day  about 
the  letter  ;  and  I  am  sorry,  whether  you  believe  it 
or  no." 

"  Miss  Alice  told  you,  did  she  ?  So  all  this  is  to 
please  Miss  Alice.  I  suppose  you  were  afraid  your 
friend  Miss  Alice  would  hear  of  some  of  your  goings 
on,  and  thought  you  had  better  make  up  with  me. 
Is  that  it  ? " 

Ellen  answered,  "  No,  ma'am,"  in  a  low  tone, 
but  had  no  voice  to  say  more. 

"  I  wish  Miss  Alice  would  look  after  her  own 
affairs,  and  let  other  people's  houses  alone.  That's 
always  the  way  with  your  pieces  of  perfection  ; — 
they're  eternally  finding  out  something  that  isn't 
as  it  ought  to  be  among  their  neighbors.  I  think 
people  that  don't  set  up  for  being  quite  such  great 
things  get  along  quite  as  well  in  the  world." 

Ellen  was  strongly  tempted  to  reply,  but  kept  her 
lips  shut. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Miss  Fortune, — "if  you 
want  me  to  believe  that  all  this  talk  means  some- 
thing I'll  tell  you  what  you  shall  do, — you  shall 
just  tell  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to-morrow  about  it  all,  and 
how  ugly  you  have  been  these  two  days,  and  let  him 
know  you  were  wrong  and  I  was  right.  I  believe 
he  thinks  you  cannot  do  anything  wrong,  and  I 
should  like  him  to  know  it  for  once." 


■2&2  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

Ellen  struggled  hard  with  herself  before  she 
could  speak  ;  Miss  Fortune's  lips  began  to  wear  a 
scornful  smile. 

"  I'll  tell  him  !  "  said  Ellen  at  length  ;  "  I'll  tell 
him  I  was  wrong,  if  you  wish  me  to." 

"  I  do  wish  it.  I  like  people's  eyes  to  be  opened. 
It'll  do  him  good,  I  guess,  and  you  too.  Now,  have 
you  anything  more  to  say  ?  " 

Ellen  hesitated  ; — the  color  came  and  went ; — 
she  knew  it  wasn't  a  good  time,  but  how  could  she 
wait? 

"  Aunt  Fortune,"  she  said,  "you  know  I  told  you 
I  behaved  very  ill  about  that  letter, — won't  you  for- 
give me  ?  " 

"Forgive  you?  yes,  child;  I  don't  care  anything 
about  it." 

"  Then  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  have  my 
letter  again  ? "  said  Ellen,  timidly. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  be  bothered  to  look  for  it  now  ;  I'll 
see  about  it  some  other  time  ;  take  your  candle  and 
go  to  bed  now  if  you've  nothing  more  to  say." 

Ellen  took  her  candle  and  went.  Some  tears 
were  wrung  from  her  by  hurt  feeling  and  disappoint- 
ment ;  but  she  had  the  smile  of  conscience,  and  as 
she  believed  of  Him  whose  witness  conscience  is. 
She  remembered  that  "  great  rock  in  a  weary  land," 
and  she  went  to  sleep  in  the  shadow  of  it. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday.  Ellen  was  up 
early ;  and  after  carefully  performing  her  toilet 
duties  she  had  a  nice  long  hour  before  it  was  time 
to  go  downstairs.  The  use  she  made  of  this  hour 
had  fitted  her  to  do  cheerfully  and  well  her  morning 
work  ;  and  Ellen  would  have  sat  down  to  breakfast 
in  excellent  spirits  if  it  had  not  been  for  her  prom- 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  283 

ised  disclosure  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  It  vexed  her 
a  little.  "  I  told  Aunt  Fortune, — that  was  all 
right ;  but  why  I  should  be  obliged  to  tell  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  I  don't  know.  But  if  it  convinces  Aunt 
Fortune  that  I  am  in  earnest,  and  mean  what  I  say  ? 
— then  I  had  better." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  uncommonly  grave,  she 
thought ;  her  aunt,  uncommonly  satisfied.  Ellen 
had  more  than  half  a  guess  at  the  reason  of  both ; 
but  make  up  her  mind  to  speak  she  could  not, 
during  all  breakfast  time.  She  ate  without  know- 
ing what  she  was  eating. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  at  length,  having  finished  his  meal 
without  saying  a  syllable,  arose  and  was  about  to 
go  forth,  when  Miss  Fortune  stopped  him.  "  Wait 
a  minute,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  she  said,  "  Ellen  has 
something  to  say  to  you.     Go  ahead,  Ellen." 

Ellen  felt  rather  than  saw  the  smile  with  which 
these  words  were  spoken.  She  crimsoned  and 
hesitated. 

"  Ellen  and  I  had  some  trouble  yesterday,"  said 
Miss  Fortune,  "  and  she  wants  to  tell  you  about 
it." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  stood  gravely  waiting. 

Ellen  raised  her  eyes,  which  were  full,  to  his 
face.  "  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  she  said,  "  Aunt  Fortune 
wants  me  to  tell  you  what  I  told  her  last  night, — 
that  I  know  I  behaved  as  I  ought  not  to  her  yester- 
day, and  the  day  before,  and  other  times." 

"  And  what  made  you  do  that  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  coloring,  "  that 
you  were  in  the  wrong  and  I  was  in  the  right— then 
he'll  believe  it,  I  suppose." 


284  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD, 

"  I  was  wrong,"  said  Ellen. 

"  And  I  was  right,"  said  Miss  Fortune. 

Ellen  was  silent.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"  Speak,"  said  Miss  Fortune  ;  "  tell  him  the  whole 
if  you  mean  what  you  say." 

"  I  can't,"  said  Ellen. 

"Why,  you  said  you  were  wrong,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,  "  that's  only  half  of  the  business ;  if  you 
were  wrong  I  was  right ;  why  don't  you  say  so,  and 
not  make  such  a  shilly-shally  piece  of  work  of  it  ? " 

"  I  said  I  was  wrong,"  said  Ellen,  "  and  so  I 
was  ;  but  I  never  said  you  were  right,  Aunt  Fort- 
une, and  I  don't  think  so." 

These  words,  though  moderately  spoken,  were 
enough  to  put  Miss  Fortune  in  a  rage. 

"  What  did  I  do  that  was  wrong  ?  "  she  said ; 
"  come,  I  should  like  to  know.  What  was  it,  Ellen  ? 
Out  with  it ;  say  everything  you  can  think  of ;  stop 
and  hear  it,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  come,  Ellen  ;  let's  hear 
the  whole  !  " 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,  I've  heard  quite  enough," 
said  that  gentleman,  as  he  went  out  and  closed  the 
door. 

"  And  I  have  said  too  much,"  said  Ellen. 
"  Pray  forgive  me,  Aunt  Fortune.  I  shouldn't 
have  said  that  if  you  hadn't  pressed  me  so;  I 
forgot  myself  a  moment.     I  am  sorry  I  said  that." 

"  Forgot  yourself  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune  ;  "  I  wish 
you'd  forget  yourself  out  of  my  house.  Please  to 
forget  the  place  where  I  am  for  to-day  anyhow  ;  I've 
got  enough  of  you  for  one  while.  You  had  better 
go  to  Miss  Alice  and  get  a  new  lesson ;  and  tell 
her  you  are  coming  on  finely." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  2S5 

Gladly  would  Ellen  indeed  have  gone  to  Miss 
Alice,  but  as  the  next  day  was  Sunday  she  thought 
it  best  to  wait.  She  went  sorrowfully  to  her  own 
room.  "  Why  couldn't  I  be  quiet  ? "  said  Ellen. 
"  If  I  had  only  held  my  tongue  that  unfortunate 
minute  !     What  possessed  me  to  say  that  ?  " 

Strong  passion — strong  pride, — both  long  un- 
broken ;  and  Ellen  had  yet  to  learn  that  many  a 
prayer  and  many  a  tear,  much  watchfulness,  much 
help  from  on  high,  must  be  hers  before  she  could 
be  thoroughly  dispossessed  of  these  evil  spirits. 
But  she  knew  her  sickness  ;  she  had  applied  to  the 
Physician  ; — she  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  well. 

One  thought  in  her  solitary  room  that  day  -drew 
streams  of  tears  down  Ellen's  cheeks.  "  My  letter 
— my  letter  !  what  shall  I  do  to  get  you  ?  "  she  said 
to  herself.  "  It  serves  me  right ;  I  oughtn't  to  have 
got  in  a  passion  ;  oh,  I  have  got  a  lesson  this  time  !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Tranquilitie 
esg 
ever  rise  to  any  height  at  all . 


So  purely  sate  there,  that  waves  great  nor  small 
Dide 


Chapman. 

The  Sunday  with  Alice  met  all  Ellen's  hopes. 
She  wrote  a  very  long  letter  to  her  mother  giving 
the  full  history  of  the  day.  How  pleasantly  they 
had  ridden  to  church  on  the  pretty  gray  pony, — 
she  half  the  way  and  Alice  the  other  half,  talking 
to  each  other  all  the  while;  for  Mr.  Humphreys 
had  ridden  on  before.  How  lovely  the  road  was, 
"  winding  about  round  the  mountain,  up  and  down," 
and  with  such  a  wide  fair  view,  and  "  part  of 
the  time  close  along  by  the  edge  of  the  water." 
This  had   been    Ellen's   first   ride   on   horseback- 


286  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

Then  the  letter  described  the  little  Carra-carra  church 
— Mr.  Humphreys'  excellent  sermon,  "  every  word 
of  which  she  could  understand  ;  "  Alice's  Sunday 
School,  in  which  she  was  sole  teacher,  and  how 
Ellen  had  four  little  ones  put  under  her  care  ;  and 
told  how  while  Mr.  Humphreys  went  on  to  hold  a 
second  service  at  a  village  some  six  miles  off,  his 
daughter  ministered  to  two  infirm  old  women  at 
Carra-carra, — reading  and  explaining  the  Bible  to 
the  one,  and  to  the  other,  who  was  blind,  repeating 
the  whole  substance  of  her  father's  sermon.  "  Miss 
Alice  told  me  that  nobody  could  enjoy  a  sermon 
better  than  that  old  woman,  but  she  cannot  go 
out,  and  every  Sunday  Miss  Alice  goes  and 
preaches  to  her,  she  says."  How  Ellen  went 
home  in  the  boat  with  Thomas  and  Margery 
and  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  and  the  night  also 
at  the  parsonage ;  and  how  polite  and  kind  Mr. 
Humphreys  had  been.  "  He's  a  very  grave-looking 
man  indeed,"  said  the  letter,  "  and  not  a  bit  like 
Miss  Alice ;  he  is  a  great  deal  older  than  I  ex- 
pected." 

This  letter  was  much  the  longest  Ellen  had  ever 
written  in  her  life  ;  but  she  had  set  her  heart  on 
having  her  mother's  sympathy  in  her  new  pleasures, 
though  not  to  be  had  but  after  the  lapse  of  many- 
weeks  and  beyond  a  sad  interval  of  land  and  sea. 
Still  she  must  have  it ;  and  her  little  fingers  trav- 
eled busily  over  the  paper  hour  after  hour,  as  she 
found  time,  till  the  long  epistle  was  finished.  She 
was  hard  at  work  at  it  Tuesday  afternoon  when 
her  aunt  called  her  down  ;  and  obeying  the  call,  to 
her  great  surprise  and  delight  she  found  Alice  seated 
in  the  chimney-corner  and  chatting  away  with  her 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  2  6  7 

old  grandmother,  who  looked  remarkably  pleased. 
Miss  Fortune  was  bustling  round  as  usual  looking  at 
nobody,  though  putting  in  her  word  now  and  then. 

"  Come,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  "  get  your  bonnet ;  I 
am  going  up  the  mountain  to  see  Mrs.  Vawse  and 
your  aunt  has  given  leave  for  you  to  go  with  me. 
Wrap  yourself  up  well,  for  it  is  not  warm." 

Without  waiting  for  a  word  of  answer,  Ellen 
joyfully  ran  off. 

"  You  have  chosen  rather  an  ugly  day  for  your 
walk,  Miss  Alice." 

"  Can't  expect  pretty  days  in  December,  Miss 
Fortune.  I  am  only  too  happy  it  doesn't  storm  ; 
it  will  by  to-morrow,  I  think.  But  I  have  learned 
not  to  mind  weathers." 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  have,"  said  Miss  Fortune. 
"  You'll  stop  up  on  the  mountain  till  supper-time, 
I  guess,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  shall  want  something  to  fortify  me 
before  coming  home  after  such  a  long  trarrip. 
You  see  I  have  brought  a  basket  along.  I  thought 
it  safest  to  take  a  loaf  of  bread  with  me,  for  no  one 
can  tell  what  maybe  in  Mrs.  Vawse's  cupboard,  and 
to  lose  our  supper  is  not  a  thing  to  be  thought  of." 

"  Well,  have  you  looked  out  for  butter  too  ?  for 
you'll  find  none  where  you're  going.  I  don't  know 
how  the  old  lady  lives  up  there,  but  it's  without 
butter,  I  reckon." 

"  I  have  taken  care  of  that  too,  thank  you,  Miss 
Fortune.     You  see  I'm  a  far-sighted  creature." 

"  Ellen,"  said  her  aunt,  as  Ellen,  now  cloaked 
and  hooded,  came  in,  "  go  into  the  buttery  and 
fetch  out  one  of  them  pumpkin  pies  to  put  in  Misa 
Alice's  basket." 


288  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Fortune,"  said  Alice,  smiling ;. 
M  I  shall  tell  Mrs.  Vawse  who  it  comes  from.  Now, 
my  dear,  let's  be  off  ;  we  have  a  long  walk  before  us." 

Ellen  was  quite  ready  to  be  off.  But  no  sooner 
had  she  opened  the  outer  shed  door  than  her  voice 
was  heard  in  astonishment. 

"  A  cat ! — What  cat  is  this  ?  Miss  Alice  !  look 
here; — here's  the  Captain,  I  do  believe." 

"  Here  is  the  Captain  indeed,"  said  Alice.  "  Oh, 
pussy,  pussy,  what  have  you  come  for  ?  " 

Pussy  walked  up  to  his  mistress,  and  stroking 
himself  and  his  great  tail  against  her  dress,  seemed 
to  say  that  he  had  come  for  her  sake,  and  that  it 
made  no  difference  to  him  where  she  was  going. 

"  He  was  sitting  as  gravely  as  possible,"  said 
Ellen,  "  on  the  stone  just  outside  the  door,  waiting; 
for  the  door  to  be  opened.  How  could  he  have 
come  here  ? " 

"  Why,  he  has  followed  me,"  said  Alice ;  "  he 
often  does  ;  but  I  came  quick,  and  I  thought  I  had 
left  him  at  home  to-day.  This  is  too  long  an  ex- 
pedition for  him.  Kitty — I  wish  you  had  stayed 
at  home." 

Kitty  did  not  think  so  ;  he  was  arching  his  neck 
and  purring  in  acknowledgment  of  Alice's  soft 
touch. 

"  Can't  you  send  him  back  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  No,  my  dear ;  he  is  the  most  sensible  of  cats, 
no  doubt,  but  he  could  by  no  means  understand 
such  an  order.  No,  we  must  let  him  trot  on  after 
us,  and  when  he  gets  tired  I'll  carry  him;  it  won't 
be  the  first  time  by  a  good  many." 

They  set  off  with  a  quick  pace,  which  the  weather 
forbade   them  to  slacken.     It   was   somewhat,  as 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  2S9 

Miss  Fortune  had  said,  an  ugly  afternoon.  The 
clouds  hung  cold  and  gray,  and  the  air  had  a  raw. 
chill  feeling  that  betokened  a  coming  snow.  The 
wind  blew  strong  too,  and  seemed  to  carry  the  dull- 
ness through  all  manner  of  wrappers.  Alice  and 
Ellen,  however,  did  not  much  care  for  it;  they 
walked  and  ran  by  turns,  only  stopping  once  in  a 
while  when  poor  Captain's  uneasy  cry  warned  them 
they  had  left  him  too  far  behind.  Still,  he  would 
not  submit  to  be  carried,  but  jumped  down  when- 
ever Alice  attempted  it,  and  trotted  on  most  per- 
severingly.  As  they  neared  the  foot  of  the  mount- 
ain they  were  somewhat  sheltered  from  the  wind, 
and  could  afford  to  walk  more  slowly. 

"  How  is  it  between  you  and  your  Aunt  Fortune 
now  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  Oh,  we  don't  get  on  well  at  all,  Miss  Alice,  and 
I  don't  know  exactly  what  to  do.  You  know  I 
said  I  would  ask  her  pardon.  Well,  I  did,  that 
same  night  after  I  got  home,  but  it  was  very  dis- 
agreeable. She  didn't  seem  to  believe  I  was  in 
earnest,  and  wanted  me  to  tell  Mr.  Van  Brunt  that 
I  had  been  wrong.  I  thought  that  was  rather  hard ; 
but  at  any  rate  I  said  I  would  ;  and  next  morning 
I  did  tell  him  so  ;  and  I  believe  all  would  have 
done  well  if  1  could  only  have  been  quiet ;  but 
Aunt  Fortune  said  something  that  vexed  me,  and 
almost  before  I  knew  it  I  said  something  that 
vexed  her  dreadfully.  It  was  nothing  very  bad, 
Miss  Alice,  though  I  ought  not  to  have  said  it ; 
and  I  was  sorry  two  minutes  after,  but  I  just  got 
provoked ;  and  what  shall  I  do,  for  it's  so  hard  to 
prevent  it  ? " 

"  The  only  thing  I  know,"  said  Alice,  with  a 
19 


290  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

slight  smile,  "  is  to  be  full  of  that  charity  which 
among  other  lovely  ways  of  showing  itself  has  this. 
— that  it  is  \  not  easily  provoked. '  " 

"  I  am  easily  provoked,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Then,  you  know  one  thing  at  any  rate,  that  is 
to  be  watched  and  prayed  and  guarded  against ; 
it  is  no  little  matter  to  be  acquainted  with  one's 
own  weak  points." 

"  I  tried  so  hard  to  keep  quiet  that  morning," 
said  Ellen,  "  and  if  I  only  could  have  let  that  un- 
lucky speech  alone — but  somehow  I  forgot  myself, 
and  I  just  told  her  what  I  thought." 

"Which  it  is  very  often  best  not  to  do." 

"  I  do  believe,"  said  Ellen,  "  Aunt  Fortune  would 
like  to  have  Mr.  Van  Brunt  not  like  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Alice,—"  what  then  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  I  suppose,  ma'am." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  lay  it  up  against 
her?" 

"  No,  ma'am, — I  hope  not." 

"  Take  care,  dear  Ellen,  don't  take  up  the  trade 
of  suspecting  evil ;  you  could  not  take  up  a  worse  ; 
and  even  when  it  is  forced  upon  you,  see  as  little 
of  it  as  you  can,  and  forget  as  soon  as  you  can 
what  you  see.  Your  aunt,  it  may  be,  is  not  a  very 
happy  person,  and  no  one  can  tell  but  those  that 
are  unhappy  how  hard  it  is  not  to  be  unamiable 
too.  Return  good  for  evil  as  fast  as  you  can  ;  and 
you  will  soon  either  have  nothing  to  complain  of 
or  be  very  well  able  to  bear  it." 

They  now  began  to  go  up  the  mountain,  and  the 
path  became  in  places  steep  and  rugged  enough. 

"  There  is  an  easier  way  on  the  other  side,"  said 
Alice,  "but  this  is  the  nearest  for  us."     Captain 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  291 

Parry  now  showed  signs  of  being  decidedly  weary, 
and  permitted  Alice  to  take  him  up.  But  he  pres- 
ently mounted  from  her  arms  to  her  shoulder,  and 
to  Ellen's  great  amusement  kept  his  place  there, 
passing  from  one  shoulder  to  the  other,  and  every 
now  and  then  sticking  his  nose  up  into  her  bonnet 
as  if  to  kiss  her. 

"  What  does  he  do,  that  for  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Because  he  loves  me  and  is  pleased,"  said 
Alice.  "  Put  your  ear  close,  Ellen,  and  hear  the 
quiet  way  he  is  purring  to  himself — do  you  hear?— 
that's  his  way  ;  he  very  seldom  purrs  aloud." 

"  He's  a  very  funny  cat,"  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  Cat !  "  said  Alice, — "  there  isn't  such  a  cat  as 
this  to  be  seen.  He's  a  cat  to  be  respected,  my 
old  Captain  Parry.  He  is  not  to  be  laughed  at, 
Ellen,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  travelers  went  on  with  good  will ;  but  the 
path  was  so  steep  and  the  way  so  long  that  when 
about  half  way  up  the  mountain  they  were  fain  to 
follow  the  example  of  their  four-footed  companion 
and  rest  themselves.  They  sat  down  on  the 
ground.  They  had  warmed  themselves  with  walk- 
ing, but  the  weather  was  as  chill  and  disagreeable 
and  gusty  as  ever ;  every  now  and  then  the  wind 
came  sweeping  by,  catching  up  the  dried  leaves 
at  their  feet  and  whirling  and  scattering  them  off 
to  a  distance, — winter's  warning  voice. 

"  I  never  was  in  the  country  before  when  the 
leaves  were  off  the  trees,"  said  Ellen.  "  It  isn't  so 
pretty,  Miss  Alice,  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  So  pretty  ?  No,  I  suppose  not,  if  we  were  to 
have  it  all  the  while ;  but  I  like  the  change  very 
much." 


292  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

**  Do  you  like  to  see  the  leaves  off  the  trees  ? " 

"  Yes — in  the  time  of  it.  There's  a  beauty  in 
the  leafless  trees  that  you  cannot  see  in  summer. 
Just  look,  Ellen — no,  I  cannot  find  you  a  nice 
specimen  here,  they  grow  too  thick;  but  where 
they  have  room  the  way  the  branches  spread  and 
ramify,  or  branch  out  again,  is  most  beautiful. 
There's  first  the  trunk — then  the  large  branches — 
then  those  divide  into  smaller  ones ;  and  those  part 
and  part  again  into  smaller  and  smaller  twigs,  till 
you  are  canopied  as  it  were  with  a  network  of  fine 
stems.  And  when  the  snow  falls  gently  on  them — 
oh !  Ellen,  winter  has  its  own  beauties.  I  love  it 
all ;  the  cold,  and  the  wind,  and  the  snow,  and  the 
bare  forest,  and  our  little  river  of  ice.  What  pleas- 
ant sleigh-rides  to  church  I  have  had  upon  that 
river !  And  then  the  evergreens, — look  at  them  ; 
you  don't  know  in  summer  how  much  they  are 
worth ;  wait  till  you  see  the  hemlock  branches 
bending  with  a  weight  of  snow,  and  then  if  you 
don't  say  the  winter  is  beautiful  I'll  give  you  up  as 
a  young  lady  of  bad  taste." 

"  I  daresay  I  shall,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I  am  sure  I 
shall  like  what  you  like.  But,  Miss  Alice,  what 
makes  the  leaves  fall  when  the  cold  weather 
comes  ?  " 

"A  very  pretty  question,  Ellen,  and  one  that 
can't  be  answered  in  a  breath." 

"  I  asked  Aunt  Fortune  the  other  day,"  said 
Ellen,  laughing  very  heartily, — "  and  she  told  me 
to  hush  up  and  not  be  a  fool ;  and  I  told  her  I 
really  wanted  to  know,  and  she  said  she  wouldn't 
make  herself  a  simpleton  if  she  was  in  my  place  j 
so  I  thought  I  might  as  well  be  quiet." 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  293 

"  By  the  time  the  cold  weather  comes,  Ellen,  the 
{eaves  have  done  their  work  and  are  no  more 
needed.  Do  you  know  what  work  they  have  to 
do  ? — do  you  know  what  is  the  use  of  leaves  ?  " 

"Why,  for  prettiness,  I  suppose,"  said  Ellen, 
•'and  to  give  shade; — I  don't  know  anything 
<lse." 

"Shade  is  one  of  their  uses,  no  doubt,  and  pret- 
K  iness,  too  ;  He  who  made  the  trees  made  them 
pleasant  to  the  eyes'  as  well  as  'good  for  food.' 
jo  we  have  an  infinite  variety  of  leaves;  one  shape 
*T>uld  have  done  the  work:  just  as  well  for  every 
tind  of  tree,  but  then  we  should  have  lost  a  great 
leal  of  pleasure.  But,  Ellen,  the  tree  could  not 
live  without  leaves.  In  the  spring  the  thin  sap 
which  the  roots  suck  up  from  the  ground  is  drawn 
into  the  leaves  ;  there  by  the  help  of  the  sun  and 
air  it  is  thickened  and  prepared  in  a  way  you  can- 
not understand,  and  goes  back  to  supply  the  wood 
with  the  various  matters  necessary  for  its  growth 
and  hardness.  After  this  has  gone  on  some  time 
the  little  vessels  of  the  leaves  become  clogged  and 
stopped  up  with  earthy  and  other  matter  ;  they 
cease  to  do  their  work  any  longer  ;  the  hot  sun 
dries  them  up  more  and  more,  and  by  the  time  the 
frost  comes  they  are  as  good  as  dead.  That  fin- 
ishes them,  and  they  drop  off  from  the  branch  that 
needs  them  no  more.   Do  you  understand  all  this?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,  very  well,"  said  Ellen  ;  "and  it's 
exactly  what  I  wanted  to  know,  and  very  curious. 
So  the  trees  couldn't  live  without  leaves  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  you  could  without  a  heart  and 
lungs." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  know  that,"  said  Ellen. 


294  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Then  how  is  it  with  the  evergreens,  Miss  Alice  ? 
Why  don't  their  leaves  dry  and  drop  off,  too  ?  " 

"  They  do ;  look  how  the  ground  is  carpeted  un- 
der that  pine  tree." 

"  But  they  stay  green  all  winter,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  their  leaves  are  fitted  to  resist  frost ;  I 
don't  know  what  the  people  in  cold  countries  would 
do  else.  They  have  the  fate  of  all  other  leaves, 
however ;  they  live  awhile,  do  their  work,  and  then 
die  ;  not  all  at  once,  though  ;  there  is  always  a  sup- 
ply left  on  the  tree.  Are  we  rested  enough  to 
begin  again  ? " 

"  I  am,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I  don't  know  about  the 
Captain.  Poor  fellow  !  he's  fast  asleep.  I  declare 
it's  too  bad  to  wake  you  up,  pussy.  Haven't  we 
had  a  pleasant  little  rest,  Miss  Alice  ?  I  have 
learnt  something  while  we  have  been  sitting  here." 

"  That  is  pleasant,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  as  they 
began  their  upward  march  ; — "  I  would  I  might  be 
all  the  while  learning  something." 

"  But  you  have  been  teaching,  Miss  Alice,  and 
that's  as  good.  Mamma  used  to  say  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 

"Thank  you,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  smiling;  "that 
ought  to  satisfy  me  certainly." 

They  bent  themselves  against  the  steep  hill 
again  and  pressed  on.  As  they  rose  higher  they 
felt  it  grow  more  cold  and  bleak ;  the  woods  gave 
them  less  shelter,  and  the  wind  swept  round  the 
mountain-head  and  over  them  with  great  force, 
making  their  way  quite  difficult. 

"  Courage,  Ellen  !  "  said  Alice  as  they  struggled 
on  ;  "  we  shall  soon  be  there." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  panting  Ellen,  as  making 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  295 

an  effort  she  came  up  alongside  of  Alice — "  I 
wonder  why  Mrs.  Vawse  will  live  in  such  a  disgree- 
able  place." 

"  It  is  not  disagreeable  to  her,  Ellen  ;  though  I 
must  say  I  should  not  like  to  have  too  much  of 
this  wind  ! " 

"  But  does  she  really  likd  to  live  up  here  better 
than  down  below  where  it  is  warmer  ? — and  all 
alone,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  does.  Ask  her  why,  Ellen,  and  see 
what  she  will  tell  you.  She  likes  it  so  much  better 
that  this  little  cottage  was  built  on  purpose  for  her 
near  ten  years  ago,  by  a  good  old  friend  of  hers,  a 
connection  of  the  lady  whom  she  followed  to  this 
country." 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  "  she  must  have  a  queer 
taste — that  is  all  I  can  say." 

They  were  now  within  a  few  easy  steps  of  the 
house,  which  did  not  look  so  uncomfortable  when 
they  came  close  to  it.  It  was  small  and  low,  of 
only  one  story,  though  it  is  true  the  roof  ran  up 
very  steep  to  a  high  and  sharp  gable.  It  was 
perched  so  snugly  in  a  niche  of  the  hill  that  the 
little  yard  was  completely  sheltered  with  a  high 
wall  of  rock.  The  house  itself  stood  out  more 
boldly  and  caught  pretty  well  near  all  the  winds 
that  blew ;  but  so,  Alice  informed  Ellen,  the  in- 
mate liked  to  have  it. 

"  And  that  roof,"  said  Alice — "  she  begged  Mr. 
Marshman  when  the  cottage  was  building  that  the 
roof  might  be  high  and  pointed ;  she  said  her  eyes 
were  tired  with  the  low  roofs  of  this  country,  and 
if  he  would  have  it  made  so  it  would  be  a  great 
relief  to  them. 


296  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD, 

The  odd  roof  Ellen  thought  was  pretty.  But 
they  now  reached  the  door,  protected  with  a  deep 
porch.  Alice  entered  and  knocked  at  the  other 
door.  They  were  bade  to  come  in.  A  woman 
was  there  stepping  briskly  back  and  forth  before  a 
large  spinning-wheel.  She  half  turned  her  head 
to  see  who  the  comers  were,  then  stopped  her 
wheel  instantly,  and  came  to  meet  them  with  open 
arms. 

"  Miss  Alice  !  Dear  Miss  Alice,  how  glad  I  am 
to  see  you." 

"  And  I  you,  dear  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Alice,  kiss- 
ing her.  "  Here's  another  friend  you  must  welcome 
for  my  sake — little  Ellen  Montgomery." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  Miss  Ellen,"  said  the 
old  woman,  kissing  her  also;  and  Ellen  did  not 
shrink  from  the  kiss,  so  pleasant  were  the  lips  that 
tendered  it ;  so  kind  and  frank  the  smile,  so  win- 
ning the  eye ;  so  agreeable  the  whole  air  of  the 
person.  She  turned  from  Ellen  again  to  Miss 
Alice. 

"  It's  a  long  while  that  I  have  not  seen  you,  dear, 
— not  since  you  went  to  Mrs.  Marshman's.  And 
what  a  day  you  have  chosen  to  come  at  last !  " 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  said  Alice,  pulling  off  her 
bonnet, — "  I  couldn't  wait  any  longer.  I  wanted 
to  see  you  dolefully,  Mrs.  Vawse." 

"  Why,  my  dear  ?  what's  the  matter  ?  I  have 
wanted  to  see  you,  but  not  dolefully." 

"  That's  the  very  thing,  Mrs.  Vawse  ;  I  wanted 
to  see  you  to  get  a  lesson  of  quiet  contentment." 

"  I  never  thought  you  wanted  such  a  lesson, 
Miss  Alice.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  can't  get  over  John's  going  away." 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  297 

Her  lip  trembled  and  her  eye  was  swimming  as 
she  said  so.  The  old  woman  passed  her  hands 
over  the  gentle  head  and  kissed  her  brow. 

"  So  I  thought — so  I  felt,  when  my  mistress 
died ;  and  my  husband ;  and  my  sons,  one  after 
the  other.  But  now  I  think  I  can  say  with  Paul, 
1 1  have  learned  in  whatsoever  state  I  am  therewith 
to  be  content.'  I  think  so;  maybe  that  I  deceive 
myself  ;  but  they  are  all  gone,  and  I  am  certain 
that  I  am  content  now." 

"  Then  surely  I  ought  to  be,"  said  Alice. 

"  It  is  not  till  one  looses  one's  hold  of  other 
things  and  looks  to  Jesus  alone,  that  one  finds  how 
much  he  can  do.  '■  There  is  a  Friend  that  sticketh 
closer  than  a  brother  ; '  but  I  never  knew  all  that 
meant  till  I  had  no  other  friends  to  lean  upon  ;— 
nay,  I  should  not  say  no  other  friends  ; — but  my 
dearest  were  taken  away.  You  have  your  dearest 
still,  Miss  Alice." 

"  Two  of  them,"  said  Alice,  faintly  ; — "  and 
hardly  that  now." 

"  I  have  not  one,"  said  the  old  woman, — "  I  have 
not  one ;  but  my  home  is  in  heaven,  and  my 
Saviour  is  there  preparing  a  place  for  me.  I  know 
it — I  am  sure  of  it — and  I  can  wait  a  little  while, 
and  rejoice  all  the  while  I  am  waiting.  Dearest 
Miss  Alice — '  none  of  them  that  trust  in  Him  shall 
be  desolate; '  don't  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  I  do,  surely,  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Alice,  wiping 
away  a  tear  or  two,  "  but  I  forget  it  sometimes  ;  or 
the  pressure  of  present  pain  is  too  much  for  all 
that  faith  and  hope  can  do." 

"  It  hinders  faith  and  hope  from  acting — that  is 
the  trouble.     '  They  that  seek  the  Lord  shall  not 


jgS  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

want  any  good  thing/  I  know  that  is  true,  of  my 
own  experience  ;  so  will  you,  dear." 

"  I  know  it,  Mrs.  Vawse — I  know  it  all  ;  but  it 

does  me  good  to  hear  you    say  it.     I    thought    I 

should  become  accustomed  to  John's  absence,  but 

I  do  not  at  all ;  the  autumn    winds    all   the    while 

eem  to  sing  to  me  that  he  is  away." 

"  My  dear  love,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  it  sorrows 
me  much  to  hear  you  speak  so  ;  I  would  take  away 
this  trial  from  you  if  I  could  ;  but  He  knows  best. 
Seek  to  live  nearer  to  the  Lord,  dear  Miss  Alice, 
and  He  will  give  you  much  more  than  He  has 
taken  away." 

Alice  again  brushed  away  some  tears. 

"  I  felt  I  must  come  and  see  you  to-day,"  said  she, 
"  and  you  have  comforted  me  already.  The  sound 
of  your  voice  always  does  me  good.  I  catch  cour- 
age and  patience  from  you  I  believe." 

"  '  As  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  a  man  sharpeneth 
the  countenance  of  his  friend.'  How  did  you  leave 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marshman  ?  and  has  Mr.  George 
returned  yet  ? " 

Drawing  their  chairs  together,  a  close  conversa- 
tion began.  Ellen  had  been  painfully  interested 
and  surprised  by  what  went  before,  but  the  low 
tone  of  voice  now  seemed  to  be  not  meant  for  her 
ear,  and  turning  away  her  attention,  she  amused 
herself  with  taking  a  general  survey. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  Mrs.  Vawse  lived  in  this 
room,  and  probably  had  no  other  to  live  in.  Her 
bed  was  in  one  corner  ;  cupboards  filled  the  deep 
recesses  on  each  side  of  the  chimney,  and  in  the 
wide  fireplace  the  crane  and  the  hooks  and  tram- 
mels hanging  upon  it  showed  that  the  bedroom  and 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  299 

sitting-room  was  the  kitchen  too.  Most  of  the  floor 
was  covered  with  a  thick  rag  carpet  ;  where  the 
boards  could  be  seen  they  were  beautifully  clean 
and  white,  and  everything  else  in  the  room  in  this 
respect  matched  with  the  boards.  The  panes  of 
glass  in  the  little  windows  were  clear  and  bright  as 
panes  of  glass  could  be  made  ;  the  hearth  was  clean 
swept  up  ;  the  cupboard  doors  were  unstained  and 
unsoiled,  though  fingers  had  worn  the  paint  off ; 
dust  was  nowhere.  On  a  little  stand  by  the  chim- 
ney corner  lay  a  large  Bible  and  another  book ; 
close  beside  stood  a  cushioned  arm-chair.  Some 
other  apartment  there  probably  was  where  wood 
and  stores  were  kept ;  nothing  was  to  be  seen  here 
that  did  not  agree  with  a  very  comfortable  face  of 
the  whole.  It  looked  as  if  one  might  be  happy 
there  ;  it  looked  as  if  somebody  was  happy  there  ; 
and  a  glance  at  the  old  lady  of  the  house  would 
not  alter  the  opinion.  Many  a  glance  Ellen  gave 
her  as  she  sat  talking  with  Alice  ;  and  with  every 
one  she  felt  more  and  more  drawn  towards  her. 
She  was  somewhat  under  the  common  size  and 
rather  stout ;  her  countenance  most  agreeable ; 
there  was  sense,  character,  sweetness  in  it.  Some 
wrinkles  no  doubt  were  there  too ;  lines  deep- 
marked  that  spoke  of  sorrows  once  known.  Those 
storms  had  all  passed  away ;  the  last  shadow  of  a 
cloud  had  departed ;  her  evening  sun  was  shining 
dear  and  bright  towards  the  setting  ;  and  her  brow 
was  beautifully  placid,  not  as  though  it  never  had 
been,  but  as  if  it  never  could  be  ruffled  again. 
Respect  no  one  could  help  feeling  for  her ;  and 
more  than  respect  one  felt  would  grow  with  ac- 
quaintance.   Her  dress  was  very  odd,  Ellen  thought. 


300  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

It  was  not  American,  and  what  it  was  she  did  not 
know,  but  supposed  Mrs.  Vawse  must  have  a 
lingering  fancy  for  the  costume  as  well  as  for  the 
roofs  of  her  fatherland.  More  than  all,  her  eye 
turned  again  and  again  to  the  face,  which  seemed 
to  her  in  its  changing  expression  winning  and 
pleasant  exceedingly.  The  mouth  had  not  for- 
gotten to  smile,  nor  the  eye  to  laugh  ;  and  though 
this  was  not  often  seen,  the  constant  play  of  feature 
showed  a  deep  and  lively  sympathy  in  all  Alice  was 
saying,  and  held  Ellen's  charmed  gaze ;  and  when 
the  old  lady's  looks  and  words  were  at  length  turned 
to  herself  she  blushed  to  think  how  long  she  had 
been  looking  steadily  at  a  stranger. 

"  Little  Miss  Ellen,  how  do  you  like  my  house 
on  the  rock  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am/'  said  Ellen ;  "  I  like  it 
very  much,  only  I  don't  think  I  should  like  it  so 
well  in  winter." 

"  I  am  not  certain  that  I  don't  like  it  then  best 
of  all.     Why  would  you  not  like  it  in  winter  ? " 

"  I  shouldn't  like  the  cold,  ma'am,  and  to  be 
alone." 

"  I  like  to  be  alone,  but  cold  ?  I  am  in  no  dan* 
ger  of  freezing,  Miss  Ellen.  I  make  myself  very 
warm — keep  good  fires, — and  my  house  is  too 
Strong  for  the  wind  to  blow  it  away.  Don't  you 
want  to  go  out  and  see  my  cow  ?  I  have  one  of 
the  best  cows  that  ever  you  saw  ;  her  name  is  Snow ; 
there  is  not  a  black  hair  upon  her;  she  is  all 
white.  Come,  Miss  Alice;  Mr.  Marshman  sent 
her  to  me  a  month  ago  ;  she's  a  great  treasure  and 
worth  looking  at." 

They  went  across  the  yard  to  the  tiny  barn  o* 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  301 

outhouse,  where  they  found  Snow  nicely  cared  for. 
She  was  in  a  warm  stable,  a  nice  bedding  of  straw 
upon  the  floor,  and  plenty  of  hay  laid  up  for  her. 
Snow  deserved  it,  for  she  was  a  beauty  and  a  very 
well-behaved  cow,  letting  Alice  and  Ellen  stroke 
her  and  pat  her  and  feel  of  her  thick  hide,  with  the 
most  perfect  placidity.  Mrs.  Vawse  meanwhile 
went  to  the  door  to  look  out. 

"  Nancy  ought  to  be  home  to  milk  her,"  she  said ; 
"  I  must  give  you  supper  and  send  you  off.  I've 
no  feeling  nor  smell  if  snow  isn't  thick  in  the  air 
somewhere  ;  we  shall  see  it  here  soon." 

"  I'll  milk  her,"  said  Alice. 

"I'll  milk  her!"  said  Ellen;  "I'll  milk  her! 
Ah  !  do  let  me  ;  I  know  how  to  milk  ;  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  taught  me,  and  I  have  done  it  several  times- 
May  I  ?     I  should  like  it  dearly." 

"  You  shall  do  it  surely,  my  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Vawse.  "  Come  with  me  and  I'll  give  you  the  pail 
and  the  milking  stool." 

When  Alice  and  Ellen  came  in  with  the  milk 
they  found  the  kettle  on,  the  little  table  set,  and 
Mrs.  Vawse  very  busy  at  another  table. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Mrs.  Vawse,  may  I  ask  ?  " 
said  Alice. 

"  I'm  just  stirring  up  some  Indian  meal  for  you  ; 
I  find  I  have  not  but  a  crust  left." 

"  Please  to  put  that  away,  ma'am,  for  another 
time.  Do  you  think  I  didn't  know  better  than  to 
come  up  to  this  mountain-top  without  bringing 
along  something  to  live  upon  while  I  am  here  ? 
Here's  a  basket,  ma'am,  and  in  it  are  divers  things ; 
I  believe  Margery  and  I  between  us  have  packed 
up  enough  for  two  or  three  suppers  ;  to  say  nothing 


302  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

of  Miss  Fortune's  pie.  There  it  is — sure  to  be 
good,  you  know ;  and  here  are  some  of  my  cakes 
that  you  like  so  much,  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Alice,  as 
she  went  on  pulling  the  things  out  of  the  basket, — 
"  there  is  a  bowl  of  butter — that's  not  wanted,  I  see 
— and  here  is  a  loaf  of  bread  ;  and  that's  all.  Ellen, 
my  dear,  this  basket  will  be  lighter  to  carry  down 
than  it  was  to  bring  up." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ellen  :  "my 
arm  hasn't  done  aching  yet,  though  I  had  it  so  little 
while." 

"  Ah,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  kettle  singing,"  said 
their  hostess.  "  I  can  give  you  good  tea,  Miss 
Alice  ;  you'll  think  so,  I  know,  for  it's  the  same  Mr. 
John  sent  me.  It  is  very  fine  tea ;  and  he  sent 
me  a  noble  supply,  like  himself,"  continued  Mrs. 
Vawse,  taking  some  out  of  her  little  caddy.  "I 
ought  not  to  say  I  have  no  friends  left ;  I  cannot 
eat  a  meal  that  I  am  not  reminded  of  two  good 
ones.  Mr.  John  knew  one  of  my  weak  points  when 
he  sent  me  that  box  of  Souchong." 

The  supper  was  ready,  and  the  little  party 
gathered  round  the  table.  The  tea  did  credit  to 
the  judgment  of  the  giver  and  the  skill  of  the 
maKer,  but  they  were  no  critics  that  drank  it. 
Alice  and  Ellen  were  much  too  hungry  and  too 
happy  to  be  particular.  Miss  Fortune's  pumpkin 
pie  was  declared  to  be  very  fine,  and  so  were  Mrs. 
Vawse's  cheese  and  butter.  Eating  and  talking 
went  on  with  great  spirit,  their  old  friend  seeming 
scarce  less  pleased  or  less  lively  than  themselves. 
Alice  proposed  the  French  plan,  and  Mrs.  Vawse 
entered  into  it  very  frankly ;  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  stvle  of  building  and  of  dress  to  which  she  had 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  30$ 

been  accustomed  in  early  life  were  not  the  only 
things  remembered  kindly  for  old  times'  sake.  It 
was  settled  they  should  meet  as  frequently  as  might 
be,  either  here  or  at  the  parsonage,  and  become 
good  Frenchwomen  with  all  convenient  speed. 

"  Will  you  wish  to  walk  so  far  to  see  me  again, 
little  Miss  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am  !  " 

"  You  won't  fear  the  deep  snow,  and  the  wind 
and  cold,  and  the  steep  hill  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am,  I  won't  mind  them  a  bit ;  but, 
ma'am,  Miss  Alice  told  me  to  ask  you  why  you 
loved  better  to  live  up  here  than  down  where  it  is 
warmer.  I  shouldn't  ask  if  she  hadn't  said  I 
might." 

"  Ellen  has  a  great  fancy  forgetting  at  the  reason 
of  everything,  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Alice,  smiling. 

"  You  wonder  anybody  should  choose  it,  don't 
you,  Miss  Ellen  ?  "  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  a  little." 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  reason,  my  child.  It  is  for  the 
love  of  my  old  home  and  the  memory  of  my  young 
days.  Till  I  was  as  old  as  you  are  and  a  little 
older  I  lived  among  the  mountains  and  upon  them  ; 
and  after  that,  for  many  a  year,  they  were  just 
before  my  eyes  every  day,  stretching  away  for  more 
than  one  hundred  miles,  and  piled  up  one  above 
another,  fifty  times  as  big  as  any  you  ever  saw ; 
these  are  only  molehills  to  them.  I  loved  them — 
oh,  how  I  love  them  still !  If  I  have  one  unsatisfied 
wish,"  said  the  old  lady,  turning  to  Alice,  "  it  is  to 
see  my  Alps  again  ;  but  that  will  never  be.  Now, 
Miss  Ellen,  it  is  not  that  I  fancy  when  I  get  to  the 
top  of  this  hill  that  I  am  among  my  own  mountains, 


304  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

but  I  can  breathe  better  here  than  down  in  the 
plain.  I  feel  more  free ;  and  in  the  village  I 
would  not  live  for  gold,  unless  that  duty  bade 
me." 

"  But  all  alone  so  far  from  everybody,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  I  am  never  lonely ;  and  old  as  I  am  I  don't 
mind  a  long  walk  or  a  rough  road  any  more  than 
your  young  feet  do." 

"  But  isn't  it  very  cold  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  cold  ; — what  of  that  ?  I  make  a 
good  blazing  fire,  and  then  I  like  to  hear  the  wind 
whistle." 

"  Yes,  but  you  wouldn't  like  to  have  it  whistling 
inside  as  well  as  out,"  said  Alice.  "  I  will  come 
and  do  the  listening  and  caulking  for  you  in  a  day 
or  two.  Oh,  you  have  it  done  without  me  ?  I  am 
sorry." 

"  No  need  to  be  sorry,  dear — I  am  glad ;  you 
don't  look  fit  for  any  troublesome  jobs." 

"  I  am  fit  enough,"  said  Alice.  "  Don't  put  up 
the  curtains  ;  I'll  come  and  do  it." 

"  You  must  come  with  a  stronger  face,  then," 
said  her  old  friend  ;  "  have  you  wearied  yourself 
with  walking  all  this  way  ? " 

"  I  was  a  little  weary,"  said  Alice,  "but  your  nice 
tea  has  made  me  up  again." 

"  I  wish  I  could  keep  you  all  night,"  said  Mrs, 
Vawse,  looking  out,  "  but  your  father  would  be  un- 
easy. I  am  afraid  the  storm  will  catch  you  before 
you  get  home  ;  and  you  aren't  fit  to  breast  it. 
Little  Ellen,  too,  don't  look  as  if  she  was  made  of 
iron.     Can't  you  stay  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  must  not-  -it   wouldn'*   do,"  said  Alice,  who 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  305 

was  hastily  putting  on  her  things  ;  "  we'll  soon  run 
down  the  hill.  But  we  are  leaving  you  alone  ; — 
where's  Nancy  ?" 

"  She'll  not  come  if  there's  a  promise  of  a  storm/' 
said  Mrs.  Vawse  ;  "  she  often  stays  out  a  night." 

"  And  leaves  you  alone  !  " 

"  I  am  never  alone,"  said  the  old  lady,  quietly ; 
"  I  have  nothing  to  fear  ;  but  I  am  uneasy  about 
you,  dear.  Mind  my  words  ;  don't  try  to  go  back 
the  way  you  came ;  take  the  other  road  ;  it's  easier  ; 
and  stop  when  you  get  to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  ;  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  will  take  you  the  rest  of  the  way  in  his 
little  wagon." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  needful  ? "  said  Alice, 
doubtfully. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  best.  Hasten  down.  Adieu, 
mon  enfant." 

They  kissed  and  embraced  her  and  hurried 
out. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

November  chill  blaws  loud  wi'  angry  sough ; 
The  shortening  winter  day  is  near  a  close. 

Burns. 

The  clouds  hung  thick  and  low ;  the  wind  was 
less  than  it  had  been.  They  took  the  path  Mrs. 
Vawse  had  spoken  of ;  it  was  broader  and  easier 
than  the  other,  winding  more  gently  down  the 
mountain  ;  it  was  sometimes,  indeed,  traveled  by 
horses,  though  far  too  steep  for  any  kind  of  carriage. 
Alice  and  Ellen  ran  along  without  giving  much 
heed  to  anything  but  their  footing, — down,  down, 
— running  and  bounding,  hand  in  hand,  till  want  of 
breath  obliged  them  to  slacken  their  pace. 
20 


300 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


"  Do  you  think  it  will  snow  ? — soon  ? "  asked  Ellea 

"  I  think  it  will  snow, — how  soon  I  cannot  tell. 
Have  you  had  a  pleasant  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  !  " 

"  I  always  have  when  I  go  there.  Now,  Ellen, 
there  is  an  example  of  contentment  for  you.  If  ever 
a  women  loved  husband  and  children  and  friends, 
Mrs.  Vawse  loved  hers  :  I  know  this  from  those  who 
knew  her  long  ago  ;  and  now  look  at  her.  Of  them 
all  she  has  none  left  but  the  orphan  daughter  of  her 
youngest  son,  and  you  know  a  little  what  sort  of  a 
child  that  is." 

"  She  must  be  a  very  bad  girl,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  you 
can't  think  what  stories  she  told  me  about  her 
grandmother." 

"  Poor  Nancy  !  "  said  Alice.  "  Mrs.  Vawse  has 
no  money  nor  property  of  any  kind,  except  what  is 
in  her  house  ;  but  there  is  not  a  more  independent 
woman  breathing.  She  does  all  sorts  of  things  to 
support  herself.  Now,  for  instance,  Ellen,  if  any- 
body is  sick  within  ten  miles  round,  the  family  are 
too  happy  to  get  Mrs.  Vawse  for  a  nurse.  She  is 
an  admirable  one.  Then  she  goes  out  tailoring  at 
the  farmer's  houses;  she  brings  home  wool  and 
returns  it  spun  into  yarn ;  she  brings  home  yarn 
and  knits  it  up  into  stockings  and  socks  ;  all  sorts  of 
odd  jobs.  I  have  seen  her  picking  hops  ;  she  isn't 
above  doing  anything,  and  yet  she  never  forgets  her 
own  dignity.  I  think  wherever  she  goes  and  what- 
ever she  is  about,  she  is  at  all  times  one  of  the 
most  truly  ladylike  persons  I  have  ever  seen.  And 
everybody  respects  her  ;  everybody  likes  to  gain 
her  good-will ;  she  is  known  all  over  the  country ; 
and  all  the  country  are  her  friends." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


307 


"  They  pay  for  her  doing  these  things,  don't 
they?" 

"  Certainly ;  not  often  in  money ,  more  com- 
monly in  various  kinds  of  matters  that  she  wants, — ■ 
flour,  and  sugar,  and  Indian  meal,  and  pork,  and 
ham,  and  vegetables,  and  wool, — anything ;  it  is 
but  a  little  of  each  that  she  wants.  She  has  friends 
that  would  not  permit  her  to  earn  another  sixpence 
if  they  could  help  it,  but  she  likes  better  to  live  as 
she  does.  And  she  is  always  as  you  saw  her  to 
day — cheerful  and  happy,  as  a  little  girl." 

Ellen  was  turning  over  Alice's  last  words,  and 
thinking  that  little  girls  were  not  always  the  cheer- 
fullest  and  happiest  creatures  in  the  world,  when 
Alice  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  It  is  snowing  !  Come, 
Ellen,  we  must  make  haste  now  !  " — and  set  off  at 
a  quickened  pace.  Quick  as  they  might,  they  had 
gone  not  a  hundred  yards  when  the  whole  air  was 
rilled  with  the  falling  flakes,  and  the  wind,  which 
had  lulled  for  a  little,  now  rose  with  greater  vio- 
lence and  swept  round  the  mountain  furiously. 
The  storm  had  come  in  good  earnest,  and  promised 
to  be  no  trifling  one.  Alice  and  Ellen  ran  on,  hold- 
ing each  other's  hands  and  strengthening  them- 
selves against  the  blast,  but  their  journey  became 
every  moment  more  difficult.  The  air  was  dark 
with  the  thick-falling  snow  \  the  wind  seemed  to 
blow  in  every  direction  by  turns,  but  chiefly  against 
them,  blinding  their  eyes  with  the  snow  and  mak- 
ing it  necessary  to  use  no  small  effort  to  keep  on 
their  way.  Ellen  hardly  knew  where  she  went,  but 
allowed  herself  to  be  pulled  along  by  Alice,  or  as 
well  pulled  her  along ;  it  was  hard  to  say  which 
hurried  most.     In  the  midst   of   this  dashing  on 


308  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

down  the  hill  Alice  all  at  once  came  to  a  sudden 
stop. 

"  Where's  the  Captain  ?  "  said  she. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  haven't  thought 
of  him  since  we  left  Mrs.  Vawse's." 

Alice  turned  her  back  to  the  wind  and  looked  up 
the  road  they  had  come, — there  was  nothing  but 
wind  and  snow  there ;  how  furiously  it  blew ! 
Alice  called,  "  Pussy  ! " 

"  Shall  we  walk  up  the  road  a  little  way,  or  shall 
we  stand  and  wait  for  him  here?"  said  Ellen, 
trembling  half  from  exertion  and  half  from  a  vague 
fear  of  she  knew  not  what. 

Alice  called  again  ; — no  answer,  but  a  wild  gust 
of  wind  and  snow  that  again  drove  past. 

"  I  can't  go  on  and  leave  him,"  said  Alice;  "  he 
might  perish  in  the  storm."  And  she  began  to 
walk  slowly  back,  calling  at  intervals,  "  Pussy ! — 
kitty  ! — pussy  !  " — and  listening  for  an  answer  that 
came  not.  Ellen  was  very  unwilling  to  tarry,  and 
nowise  inclined  to  prolong  their  journey  by  going 
backwards.  She  thought  the  storm  grew  darker 
and  wilder  every  moment. 

"  Perhaps  Captain  stayed  up  at  Mrs.  Vawse's," 
she  said,  "  and  didn't  follow  us  down." 

"  No,"  said  Alice, — "  I  am  sure  he  did.  Hark  ! — 
wasn't  that  he  ? " 

"  I  don't  hear  anything,"  said  Ellen,  after  a 
pause  of  anxious  listening. 

Alice  went  a  few  steps  further'. 

"  I  hear  him  !  "  she  said  •, — "  I  hear  him  !  poor 
kitty ! " — and  she  set  off  at  a  quick  pace  up  the 
hill.  Ellen  followed,  but  presently  a  burst  of  wind 
and  snow  brought  them  both  to  a  stand.     Alice 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD  309 

faltered  a  little  at  this,  in  doubt  whether  to  go  up 
or  down ;  but  then  to  their  great  joy  Captain's 
far-off  cry  was  heard,  and  both  Alice  and  Ellen 
strained  their  voices  to  cheer  and  direct  him.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  came  in  sight,  trotting  hurriedly 
along  through  the  snow,  and  on  reaching  his  mis- 
tress he  sat  down  immediately  on  the  ground  with- 
out offering  any  caress  ;  a  sure  sign  that  he  was 
tired.  Alice  stooped  down  and  took  him  up  in 
her  arms. 

"  Poor  kitty !  "  she  said,  "  you've  done  your  part 
for  to-day,  I  think ;  I'll  do  the  rest.  Ellen  dear, 
it's  of  no  use  to  tire  ourselves  out  at  once ;  we  will 
go  moderately.  Keep  hold  of  my  cloak,  my  child  ; 
it  takes  both  of  my  arms  to  hold  this  big  cat- 
Now,  never  mind  the  snow;  we  can  bear  being 
blown  about  a  little  ;  are  you  very  tired  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen, — "  not  very  ; — I  am  a  little 
tired  ;  but  I  don't  care  for  that  if  we  can  only  get 
home  safe." 

"There's  no  difficulty  about  that,  I  hope.  Nay, 
there  may  be  some  difficulty,  but  we  shall  get  there, 
I  think,  in  good  safety  after  a  while.  I  wish  we 
were  there  now,  for  your  sake,  my  child." 

•"Oh,  never  mind  me,"  said  Ellen,  gratefully; 
"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Miss  Alice ;  you  have  the 
hardest  time  of  it  with  that  heavy  load  to  carry ;  I 
wish  I  could  help  you." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,  but  nobody  couJd  do 
that;  I  doubt  if  Captain  would  lie  in  any  arms  but 
mine." 

"  Let  me  carry  the  basket,  then,"  said  Ellen, — 
wdo,  Miss  Alice." 

"  No,  my   dear,  it  hangs  very  well  on   my  arm. 


^io  THE   Wi^E,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Take  it  gently ;  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  isn't  very  far  off ; 
we  shall  feel  the  wind  less  when  we  turn." 

But  the  road  seemed  long.  The  storm  did  not 
increase  in  violence,  truly  there  was  no  need  of 
that,  but  the  looked-for  turning  was  not  soon 
found,  and  the  gathering  darkness  warned  them 
day  was  drawing  towards  a  close.  As  they  neared 
the  bottom  of  the  hill  Alice  made  a  pause. 

"  There's  a  path  that  turns  off  from  this  and 
makes  a  shorter  cut  to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's,  but  it 
must  be  above  here :  I  must  have  missed  it,  though 
I  have  been  on  the  watch  constantly." 

She  looked  up  and  down.  It  would  have  been  a 
sharp  eye  indeed  that  had  detected  any  slight  open- 
ing in  the  woods  on  either  side  of  the  path,  which 
the  driving  snow-storm  blended  into  one  continuous 
wall  of  trees.  They  could  be  seen  stretching  darkly 
before  and  behind  them  ;  but  more  than  that, — 
where  they  stood  near  together  and  where  scattered 
apart, — was  all  confusion,  through  that  fast-falling 
shower  of  flakes. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  and  look  for  the  path  ? "  said 
Ellen. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  shouldn't  find  it  if  we  did," 
said  Alice  ;  "  we  should  only  lose  our  time,  and  we 
'have  none  to  lose.  I  think  we  had  better  go  straight 
forward." 

"  Is  it  much  further  this  way  than  the  other  path 
•we  have  missed  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal — all  of  half-a-mile.  I  am  sorry  ; 
but  courage,  my  child  !  we  shall  know  better  than 
to  go  out  in  snowy  weather  next  time, — on  long  ex- 
peditions at  least." 

They  had  to  shout  to  make  each  other  hear,  so 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  311 

drove  the  snow  and  wind  through  the  trees  and  into 
their  very  faces  and  ears.  They  plodded  on.  It 
was  plodding  ;  the  snow  lay  thick  enough  now  to 
make  their  footing  uneasy,  and  grew  deeper  every 
moment ;  their  shoes  were  full ;  their  feet  and 
ankles  were  wet ;  and  their  steps  began  to  drag 
heavily  over  the  ground.  Ellen  clung  as  close  to 
Alice's  cloak  as  their  hurried  traveling  would  per- 
mit ;  sometimes  one  of  Alice's  hands  was  loosened 
for  a  moment  to  be  passed  round  Ellen's  shoulders, 
and  a  word  of  courage  or  comfort  in  the  clear,  calm 
tone  cheered  her  to  renewed  exertion.  The  night 
fell  fast ;  it  was  very  darkling  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  the  road  did  not 
yet  allow  them  to  turn  their  faces  towards  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt's.  A  wearisome  piece  of  the  way  this  was,, 
leading  them  from  the  place  they  wished  to  reach. 
They  could  not  go  fast  either ;  they  were  too  weary 
and  the  walking  too  heavy.  Captain  had  the  best 
of  it ;  snug  and  quiet  he  lay  wrapped  in  Alice's. 
cloak  and  fast  asleep,  little  wotting  how  tired  his 
mistress's  arms  were. 

The  path  at  length  brought  them  to  the  long  de- 
sired turning  ;  but  it  was  by  this  time  so  dark  that 
the  fences  on  each  side  of  the  road  showed  but 
dimly.  They  had  not  spoken  for  a  while  ;  as  they 
turned  the  corner  a  sigh  of  mingled  weariness  and 
satisfaction  escaped  from  Ellen's  lips.  It  reached 
Alice's  ear. 

"  What's  the  matter,  love  ? "  said  the  sweet 
voice.  No  trace  of  weariness  was  allowed  to  come 
into  it. 

"  I  am  so  glad  we  have  got  here  at  last,"  said 
Ellen,  looking  up  with  another  sigh,  and  removing 


312  THE  WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

her  hand  for  an  instant  from  its  grasp  on  the  cloak 
to  Alice's  arm. 

"  My  poor  child  !  I  wish  I  could  carry  you  too. 
Can  you  hold  on  a  little  longer  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  Miss  Alice ;  I  can  hold  on." 

But  Ellen's  voice  was  not  so  well  guarded.  It 
was  like  her  steps,  a  little  unsteady.  She  presently 
spoke  again. 

"  Miss  Alice are  you  afraid?" 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  getting  sick,  my  child,  and 
a  little  afraid  of  it  for  myself; — of  nothing  else. 
What  is  there  to  be  afraid  of?  " 

"  It  is  very  dark,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  and  the  storm 
is  so  thick, — do  you  think  you  can  find  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  perfectly ;  it  is  nothing  but  to  keep 
straight  on ;  and  the  fences  would  prevent  us  from 
getting  out  of  the  road.  It  is  hard  walking,  I  know, 
but  we  shall  get  there  by  and  by;  bear  up  as  welt 
as  you  can,  dear.  I  am  sorry  I  can  give  you  no 
help  but  words.  Don't  you  think  a  nice  bright  fire 
will  look  comfortable  after  all  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes  !  "  answered  Ellen,  rather  sadly. 

"  Are  you  afraid,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Alice — not  much — I  don't  like  its 
being  so  dark,  I  can't  see  where  I  am  going." 

"  The  darkness  makes  our  way  longer  and  more 
tedious  ;  it  will  do  us  no  other  harm,  love.  I  wish 
I  had  a  hand  to  give  you,  but  this  great  cat  must 
have  both  of  mine.  The  darkness  and  the  light  are 
both  alike  to  our  Father  ;  we  are  in  His  hand ;  we 
are  safe  enough,  dear  Ellen." 

Ellen's  hand  left  the  cloak  again  for  an  instant 
to  press  Alice's  arm  in  answer  ;  voice  failed  at  the 
minute.     Then  clinQ-ins;  anew  as  close  to  her  side 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  313 

as  she  could  get,  they  toiled  patiently  on.  The 
wind  had  somewhat  lessened  of  its  violence,  and 
besides  it  blew  not  now  in  their  faces,  but  against 
their  backs,  helping  them  on.  Still  the  snow  con- 
tinued to  fall  very  fast,  and  already  lay  thick  upon 
the  ground  ;  every  half-hour  increased  the  heavi- 
ness and  painfulness  of  their  march  ;  and  darkness 
gathered  till  the  very  fences  could  no  longer  be 
seen.  It  was  pitch  dark ;  to  hold  the  middle  of 
the  road  was  impossible  ;  their  only  way  was  to 
keep  along  by  one  of  the  fences  ;  and  for  feaa:  of 
hurting  themselves  against  some  outstanding  post 
or  stone  it  was  necessary  to  travel  quite  gently. 
They  were  indeed  in  no  condition  to  travel  other- 
wise if  light  had  not  been  wanting.  Slowly  and 
patiently,  with  painful  care  groping  their  way,  they 
pushed  on  through  the  snow  and  the  thick  night. 
Alice  could  feel  the  earnestness  of  Ellen's  grasp 
upon  her  clothes  ;  and  her  close  pressing  up  to  her 
made  their  progress  still  slower  and  more  difficult 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been. 

"  Miss  Alice,"  said  Ellen. 

"  What,  my  child  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  me  once  in  a  while."' 

Alice  freed  one  of  her  hands  and  took  hold   of 
Ellen's. 

"  I  have  been  so  busy  picking  my  way  along,  I 
have  neglected  you,  haven't  I  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am.     But  I  like  to  hear  the  sound 
of  your  voice  sometimes,  it  makes  me  feel  better." 

"  This  is  an  odd  kind  of  traveling,   isn't  it  ? " 
said  Alice,  cheerfully  ; — "  in  the   dark,  and  feeling 
our  way  along  ?     This  will  be  quite  an  adventure 
to  talk  about,  won't  it  ?  " 


3*4 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


"  Quite,"  said  Ellen. 

"  It  is  easier  going  this  way,  don't  you  find  it 
so?     The  wind  helps  us  forward." 

"  It  helps  me  too  much,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  wish  it 
wouldn't  be  quite  so  very  hard.  Why,  Miss  Alice, 
I  have  enough  to  do  to  hold  myself  together  some- 
times. It  almost  makes  me  run,  though  I  am  so 
very  tired." 

"  Well,  it  is  better  than  having  it  in  our  faces  at 
any  rate.  Tired  you  are,  I  know,  and  must  be.  We 
shall  want  to  rest  all  day  to-morrow,  sha'n't  we  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  "  said  Ellen,  sighing  ;  "  I 
shall  be  glad  when  we  begin.  How  long  do  you 
think  it  will  be,  Miss  Alice,  before  we  get  to  Mrs. 
Van  Brunt's  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  have  not 
the  least  notion  whereabouts  we  are.  I  can  see  no 
waymarks,  and  I  cannot  judge  at  all  of  the  rate  at 
which  we  have  come." 

"  But  what  if  we  should  have  passed  it  in  this 
darkness  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  that,"  said  Alice,  though  a 
•cold  doubt  struck  her  mind  at  Ellen's  words  ; — "  I 
think  we  shall  see  the  glimmer  of  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's 
friendly  candle  by  and  by." 

But  more  uneasily  and  more  keenly  now  she 
strove  to  see  that  glimmer  through  the  darkness  ,- 
strove  till  the  darkness  seemed  to  press  painfully 
upon  her  eyeballs,  and  she  almost  doubted  her 
being  able  to  see  any  light,  if  light  there  were ;  it 
was  all  blank,  thick  darkness  still.  She  began  to 
question  anxiously  with  herself  which  side  of  the 
house  was  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  ordinary  sitting-room  ; 
- — whether  she  should  see  the  light  from  it  before 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  315, 

or  after  passing  the  house  ;  and  now  her  glance 
was  directed  often  behind  her,  that  they  might  be 
sure  in  any  case  of  not  missing  their  desired  haven. 
In  vain  she  looked  forward  or  back;  it  was  alt- 
one  •,  no  cheering  glimmer  of  lamp  or  candle  greeted 
her  straining  eyes.  Hurriedly  now  from  time  to 
time  the  comforting  words  were  spoken  to  Ellen, 
for  to  pursue  the  long  stretch  of  way  that  led  on- 
ward from  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  to  Miss  Fortune's 
would  be  a  very  serious  matter ;  Alice  wanted 
comfort  herself. 

"  Shall  we  get  there  soon,  do  you  think,  Miss, 
Alice  ? "  said  poor  Ellen,  whose  weaned  feet 
carried  her  painfully  over  the  deepening  snow.  The- 
tone  of  voice  went  to  Alice's  heart. 

"  I  don't  know,  my  darling, — I  hope  so,"  she  an- 
swered, but  it  was  spoken  rather  patiently  than 
cheerfully.  "  Fear  nothing,  dear  Ellen  ;  remember 
who  has  the  care  of  us  ;  darkness  and  light  are- 
both  alike  to  Him  ,  nothing  will  do  us  any  real 
harm." 

"  How  tired  you  must  be,  dear  Miss  Alice,  carry- 
ing pussy  !  "     Ellen  said,  with  a  sigh. 

For  the  first  time  Alice  echoed  the  sigh ;  but  al- 
most immediately  Ellen  exclaimed  in  a  totally  dif- 
ferent tone,  "  There's  a  light ! — but  it  isn't  a 
candle — it  is  moving  about ; — what  is  it  ? — what  is  itr 
Miss  Alice?" 

They  stopped  and  looked.  A  light  there  cer- 
tainly was,  dimly  seen,  moving  at  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  fence  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road.     All  of  a  sudden  it  disappeared. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  whispered  Ellen,  fearfully. 

"  I  don't  know,  my  love,  yet  5  wait " 


316  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

They  waited  several  minutes, 

"  What  could  it  be?"  said  Ellen.  "It  was  cer- 
tainly a  light, — I  saw  it  as  plainly  as  ever  I  saw 
anything  , — what  can  it  have  done  with  itself  ? — « 
there  it  is  again  ! — going  the  other  way  !  " 

Alice  waited  no  longer,  but  screamed  out,  "  Who's 
there  ? " 

But  the  light  paid  no  attention  to  her  cry ;  it 
traveled  on. 

"  Halloo  !  "  called  Alice  again  as  loud  as  she  could. 

"  Halloo  !  "  answered  a  rough,  deep  voice.  The 
light  suddenly  stopped. 

"  That's  he  !  that's  he  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen,  in  an 
ecstasy  and  almost  dancing, — "  I  know  it, — it's  Mr. 
Van  Brunt !  it's  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! — oh,  Miss 
Alice ! " 

Struggling  between  crying  and  laughing,  Ellen 
could  not  stand  it,  but  gave  way  to  a  good  fit  of 
crying.  Alice  felt  the  infection,  but  controlled  her- 
self, though  her  eyes  watered  as  her  heart  sent  up 
Its  grateful  tribute ;  as  well  as  she  could  she  an- 
swered the  halloo. 

The  light  was  seen  advancing  towards  them. 
Presently  it  glimmered  faintly  behind  the  fence, 
showing  a  bit  of  the  dark  rails  covered  with  snow, 
and  they  could  dimly  see  the  figure  of  a  man  get- 
ting over  them.  He  crossed  the  road  to  where 
they  stood.     It  was  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt," 
said  Alice's  sweet  voice  ;  but  it  trembled  a  little. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  "  sobbed  Ellen. 

That  gentleman,  at  first  dumb  with  astonishment, 
lifted  his  lantern  to  survey  them,  and  assure  his 
eyes  that  his  ears  had  not  been  mistaken. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  317 

"  Miss  Alice ! — My  goodness  alive  ! — How  in  the 
name  of  wonder  ! — And  my  poor  little  lamb  ! — But 
what  on  'arth,  ma'am  !  you  must  be  half  dead.  Come 
this  way, — just  back  a  little  bit, — why,  where  were 
you  going,  ma'am  ? " 

"  To  your  house,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  I  have  been 
looking  for  it  with  no  little  anxiety,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Looking  for  it !  Why,  how  on  'arth !  you 
wouldn't  see  the  biggest  house  ever  was  built  half 
a  yard  off  such  a  plaguy  night  as  this." 

"  I  thought  I  should  see  the  light  from  the 
windows,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

"  The  light  from  the  windows  !  Bless  my  soul ! 
the  storm  rattled  so  again  the  windows  that  mother 
made  me  pull  the  great  shutters  to.  I  won't  have 
'em  shut  again  of  a  stormy  night,  that's  a  fact; 
you'd  ha'  gone  far  enough  afore  you'd  ha'  seen  the 
light  through  them  shutters." 

"  Then  we  had  passed  the  house  already,  hadn't 
we?" 

"  Indeed  had  you,  ma'am.  I  guess  you  saw  my 
light,  ha'n't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  glad  enough  we  were  to  see  it  too." 

"  I  suppose  so.  It  happened  so  to-night — now 
that  is  a  queer  thing — I  minded  that  I  hadn't  un- 
tied my  horse ;  he's  a  trick  of  being  untied  at 
night  and  won't  sleep  well  if  he  ain't  •,  and  mother 
wanted  me  to  let  him  alone  'cause  of  the  awful 
storm,  but  I  couldn't  go  to  my  bed  in  peace,  till  I 
had  seen  him  to  his'n.  So  that's  how  my  lantern 
came  to  be  going  to  the  barn  in  such  an  awk'ard 
night  as  this." 

They  had  reached  the  little  gate,  and  Mr.  Van 


318  .  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

Brunt  with  some  difficulty  pulled  it  open.  The 
snow  lay  thick  upon  the  neat  brick  walk  which 
Ellen  had  trod  the  first  time  with  wet  feet  and  drip- 
ping garments.  A  few  steps  further  and  they  came 
to  the  same  door  that  had  opened  then  so  hospi- 
tably to  receive  her.  As  the  faint  light  of  the 
lantern  was  thrown  upon  the  old  latch  and  door- 
posts, Ellen  felt  at  home ;  and  a  sense  of  comfort 
sank  down  into  her  heart,  which  she  had  not  known 
for  some  time. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

True  is,  that  whilome  that  good  poet  said, 
The  gentle  minde  by  gentle  deeds  is  knowne: 
For  a  man  by  nothing  is  so  well  bewrayed 
As  by  his  manners,  in  which  plaine  is  showne 
Of  what  degree  and  what  race  he  is  growne. 

Fairik  Queenb. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  flung  open  the  door,  and  the 
two  wet  and  weary  travelers  stepped  after  him  into 
the  same  cheerful,  comfortable-looking  kitchen 
that  had  received  Ellen  once  before.  Just  the  same ; 
tidy,  clean  swept  up,  a  good  fire,  and  the  same  old 
red-backed  chairs  standing  round  on  the  hearth  in 
most  cozy  fashion.  It  seemed  to  Ellen  a  perfect 
storehouse  of  comfort ;  the  very  walls  had  a  kind 
face  for  her.  There  were  no  other  faces  however ; 
the  chairs  were  all  empty.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  put 
Alice  in  one  and  Ellen  in  another,  and  shouted, 
"  Mother  ! — here  !  "  muttering  that  she  had  taken 
herself  off  with  the  light  somewhere.  Not  very  far  ; 
for  in  half  a  minute,  answering  the  call,  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt  and  the  light  came  hurriedly  in. 

"  What's  the  matter,  'Brahm  ? — who's  this  ? — why, 
'tain't  Miss  Alice  !     My  gracious  me  ! — and  all  wet ! 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  319 

— oh,  dear,  dear  !  poor  lamb  !  Why,  Miss  Alice 
dear,  where  have  you  been  ? — and  if  that  ain't  my 
little  Ellen  !  oh  dear,  what  a  fix  you  are  in  ; — well, 
darling,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again  a'most  anyway." 

She  crossed  over  to  kiss  Ellen  as  she  said  this ; 
but  surprise  was  not  more  quickly  alive  than  kind- 
ness and  hospitality.  She  fell  to  work  immediately 
to  remove  Alice's  wet  things,  and  to  do  whatever 
their  joint  prudence  and  experience  might  suggest 
to  ward  off  any  ill  effects  from  the  fatigue  and  ex- 
posure the  wanderers  had  suffered  ;  and  while  she 
was  thus  employed  Mr.  Van  Brunt  busied  himself 
with  Ellen,  who  was  really  in  no  condition  to  help 
herself.  It  was  curious  to  see  him  carefully  tak- 
ing off  Ellen's  wet  hood  (not  the  blue  one)  and 
knocking  it  gently  to  get  rid  of  the  snow  ;  evidently- 
thinking  that  ladies'  things  must  have  delicate 
handling.  He  tried  the  cloak  next,  but  boggled 
sadly  at  the  fastening  of  that,  and  at  last  was  fain 
to  call  in  help. 

"  Here,  Nancy  ! — where  are  you  ?  step  here  and 
see  if  you  can  undo  this  here  thing,  whatever  you 
call  it ;  I  believe  my  fingers  are  too  big  for  it." 

It  was  Ellen's  former  acquaintance  who  came 
forward  in  obedience  to  this  call.  Ellen  had  not 
seen  before  that  she  was  in  the  room.  Nancy 
grinned  a  mischievous  smile  of  recognition  as  she 
stooped  to  Ellen's  throat  and  undid  the  fastening 
of  the  cloak,  and  then  shortly  enough  bade  her 
"  get  up,  that  she  might  take  it  off !  "  Ellen 
obeyed,  but  was  very  glad  to  sit  down  again. 
While  Nancy  went  to  the  door  to  shake  the  cloak 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  gently  pulling  off  Ellen's  wet 
gloves,  and  on  Nancy's  return  he  directed  her  to 


32 o  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

take  off  the  shoes,  which  were  filled  with  snow. 
Nancy  sat  down  on  the  flflor  before  Ellen  to  obey 
this  order ;  and  tired  and  exhausted  as  she  was, 
Ellen  felt  the  different  manner  in  which  her  hands 
and  feet  were  waited  upon. 

"  How  did  you  get  into  this  scrape  ?  "  said  Nancy ; 
"  this  was  none  of  my  doings  anyhow.  It'll  never  be 
dry  weather,  Ellen,  where  you  are.  I  won't  put 
on  my  Sunday-go-to-meeting  clothes  when  I  go 
a-walking  with  you.  You  had  ought  to  ha'  been  a 
duck  or  a  goose,  or  something  like  that. — What's 
that  for,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

This  last  query,  pretty  sharply  spoken,  was  in 
answer  to  a  light  touch  of  that  gentleman's  hand 
upon  Miss  Nancy's  ear,  which  came  rather  as  a 
surprise.     He  deigned  no  reply. 

"  You're  a  fine  gentleman  !  "  said   Nancy,  tartly. 

"  Have  you  done  what  I  gave  you  to  do  ? "  said 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  coolly. 

"  Yes — there  !  "  said  Nancy,  holding  up  Ellen's 
bare  feet  on  one  hand,  while  the  fingers  of  the 
other  secretly  applied  in  ticklish  fashion  to  the 
soles  of  them  caused  Ellen  suddenly  to  start  and 
scream. 

"  Get  up  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  Nancy  didn't 
think  best  to  disobey  ; — "  Mother,  ha'n't  you  got 
nothing  you  want  Nancy  to  do  ?  " 

"  Sally,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  "  you  and  Nancy 
go  and  fetch  here  a  couple  of  pails  of  hot  water, — 
right  away." 

"  Go,  and  mind  what  you  are  about,"  said  Mr, 
Van  Brunt ;  "  and  after  that  keep  out  of  this  room 
and  don't  whisper  again  till  I  give  you  leave. 
Now,  Miss  Ellen  dear,  how  do  you  feel  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD  32 1 

Ellen  said  in  words  that  she  felt  "  nicely."  But 
the  eyes  and  the  smile  said  a  great  deal  more ; 
Ellen's  heart  was  running  over. 

"  Oh,  she'll  feel  nicely  directly,  I'll  be  bound," 
said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  ■  "  wait  till  she  gets  her  feet 
soaked,  and  then  ! " 

"I  do  feel  nicely  now,"  said  Ellen.  And  Alice 
smiled  in  answer  to  their  inquiries,  and  said  if  she 
only  knew  her  father  was  easy  there  would  be  noth- 
ing wanting  to  her  happiness. 

The  bathing  of  their  feet  was  a  great  refreshment, 
and  their  kind  hostess  had  got  ready  a  plentiful 
supply  of  hot  herb  tea,  with  which  both  Alice  and 
Ellen  were  well  dosed.  While  they  sat  sipping  this, 
toasting  their  feet  before  the  fire,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt 
and  the  girls  meanwhile  preparing  their  room,  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  suddenly  entered.  He  was  cloaked  and 
hatted  and  had  a  riding-whip  in  his  hand. 

"  Is  there  any  word  you'd  like  to  get  home,  Miss 
Alice  ?  I'm  going  to  ride  a  good  piece  that  way, 
and  I  can  stop  as  good  as  not." 

"  To-night,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! "  exclaimed  Alice, 
in  astonishment. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt's  silence  seemed  to  say  that  to- 
night was  the  time  and  no  other. 

"  But  the  storm  is  too  bad,"  urged  Alice. 
"  Pray  don't  go  till  to-morrow." 

"vPray  don't,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! "  said  Ellen. 

"Can't  help  it — I've  got  business;  must  go. 
What  shall  I  say,  ma'am  ? " 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,"  said  Alice,  "  to  have 
my  father  know  where  I  am,  Are  you  going  very 
near  the  Nose  ?  " 

"  Very  near." 
21 


322  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Then  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  be 
so  kind  as  to  stop  and  relieve  my  father's  anxiety. 
But  how  can  you  go  in  such  weather  ?  and  so  dark 
as  it  is." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  "  We'll  be 
back  in  half  an  hour,  if  'Brahm,  and  me  don't  come 
across  a  snowdrift  a  leetle  too  deep.  Good-night, 
ma'am."     And  out  he  went. 

"  *  Back  in  half  an  hour,'  "  said  Alice,  musing. 
"  Why,  he  said  he  had  been  to  untie  his  horse  for 
the  night !  He  must  be  going  on  our  account,  I 
am  sure,  Ellen  !  " 

"  On  your  account,"  said  Ellen,  smiling.  "  Oh, 
I  knew  that  all  the  time,  Miss  Alice.  I  don't  think 
he'll  stop  to  relieve  Aunt  Fortune's  anxiety." 

Alice  sprang  to  call  him  back;  but  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt  assured  her  it  was  too  late,  and  that  she  need 
riot  be  uneasy,  for  her  son  "  didn't  mind  the  storm 
no  more  than  a  weather-board."  'Brahm  and 
'Brahm  could  go  anywhere  in  any  sort  of  a  time. 
"  He  was  a-going  without  speaking  to  you,  but  I 
told  him  he  had  better,  for  maybe  you  wanted  to 
send  some  word  particular.  And  your  room's  ready 
now,  dear,  and  you'd  better  go  to  bed  and  sleep  as 
long  as  you  can." 

They  went  thankfully.  "  Isn't  this  a  pleasant 
room  ?  "  said  Ellen,  who  saw  everything  in  rose- 
color  ;  "  and  a  nice  bed  ?  But  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
sleep  on  the  floor  to-night.  Isn't  it  almost  worth 
while  to  have  such  a  time,  Miss  Alice,  for  the  sake 
of  the  pleasure  afterwards  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  smiling  ;  "  I 
won't  say  that ;  though  it  is  worth  paying  a  price 
for  to  find  how   much  kindness  there  is  in  some 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  323 

people's  hearts.  As  to  sleeping  on  the  floor,  I 
must  say  I  never  felt  less  inclined  to  it." 

"  Well,  I  am  tired  enough  too,"  said  Ellen,  as 
they  laid  themselves  down.  "  Two  nights  with  you 
in  a  week  !  Oh,  those  weeks  before  I  saw  you, 
Miss  Alice  !  " 

One  earnest  kiss  for  good-night;  and  Ellen's 
sigh  of  pleasure  on  couching  the  pillow  was  scarcely 
breathed  when  sleep,  deep  and  sound,  fell  upon 
her  eyelids. 

It  was  very  late  next  morning  when  they  awoke, 
having  slept  rather  heavily  than  well.  They 
crawled  out  of  bed,  feeling  stiff  and  sore  in  every 
limb ;  each  confessing  to  more  evil  effects  from 
their  adventure  than  she  had  been  aware  of  the 
evening  before.  All  the  rubbing  and  bathing  and 
drinking  that  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  had  administered 
had  been  too  little  to  undo  what  wet  and  cold  and 
fatigue  had  done.  But  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  had  set 
her  breakfast-table  with  everything  her  house  could 
furnish  that  was  nice  ;  a  bountifully-spread  board  it 
was.  Mr.  Humphreys  was  there  too  ;  and  no  bad 
feelings  of  two  of  the  party  could  prevent  that  from 
being  a  most  cheerful  and  pleasant  meal.  Even 
Mr.  Humphreys  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  two  persons 
not  usually  given  to  many  words,  came  out  wonder* 
fully  on  this  occasion  ;  gratitude  and  pleasure  in 
the  one,  and  generous  feeling  on  the  part  of  the 
other,  untied  their  tongues;  and  Ellen  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  in  some  amazement  to  see  how  agree- 
able they  could  be.  Kindness  and  hospitality  always 
kept  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  in  full  flow ;  and  Alice,  what* 
ever  she  felt,  exerted  herself  and  supplied  what  was 
Wanting  everywhere  ;    like  the  transparent  glazing 


324  TIiE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

which  jjainters  use  to  spread  over  the  dead  coloi 
of  their  pictures  ;  unknown,  it  was  she  gave  life  and 
harmony  to  the  whole.  And  Ellen,  in  her  enjoy- 
ment of  everything  and  everybody,  forgot  or  de- 
spised aches  and  pains,  and  even  whispered  to  Alice 
that  the  coffee  was  making  her  well  again. 

But  happy  breakfasts  must  come  to  an  end,  and 
so  did  this,  prolonged  though  it  was.  Immediately 
after,  the  party,  whom  circumstances  had  gathered 
for  the  first  and  probably  the  last  time,  scattered 
again  ;  but  the  meeting  had  left  pleasant  effects 
on  all  minds.  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  was  in  general  de- 
light that  she  had  entertained  so  many  people  she 
thought  a  great  deal  of,  and  particularly  glad  of  the 
chance  of  showing  her  kind  feelings  towards  two 
of  the  number.  Mr.  Humphreys  remarked  upon 
"  that  very  sensible  good-hearted  man,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  towards  whom  he  felt  himself  under  great 
obligation."  Mr.  Van  Brunt  said  "  the  minister 
warn't  such  a  grum  man  as  people  called  him  ;  "  and 
moreover  said  "  it  was  a  good  thing  to  have  an  edu- 
cation, and  he  had  a  notion  to  read  more."  As 
for  Alice  and  Ellen,  they  went  away  full  of  kind 
feeling  for  every  one  and  much  love  to  each  other. 
This  was  true  of  them  before  ;  but  their  late  trou- 
bles had  drawn  them  closer  together  and  given  them 
fresh  occasion  to  value  their  friends. 

Mr.  Humphreys  had  brought  the  little  one-horse 
sleigh  for  his  daughter,  and  soon  after  breakfast 
Ellen  saw  it  drive  off  with  her.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
then  harnessed  his  own  and  carried  Ellen  home. 
Ill  though  she  felt,  the  poor  child  made  an  effort 
and  spent  part  of  the  morning  in  finishing  the  long 
letter  to  her  mother  which  had  been  on  the  stocks 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  325 

since  Monday.  The  effort  became  painful  towards 
the  last;  and  the  aching  limbs  and  trembling  hand 
of  which  she  complained  were  the  first  beginnings 
of  a  serious  fit  of  illness.  She  went  to  bed  that 
same  afternoon  and  did  not  leave  it  again  for  two 
weeks.  Cold  had  taken  violent  hold  of  her  system ; 
fever  set  in  and  ran  high  ;  and  half  the  time  little 
Ellen's  wits  were  roving  in  delirium.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, could  be  too  much  for  Miss  Fortune's  ener- 
gies ;  she  was  as  much  at  home  in  a  sick  room  as  in 
a  well  one.  She  flew  about  with  increased  agility  ; 
was  upstairs  and  downstairs  twenty  times  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  kept  all  straight  everywhere. 
Ellen's  room  was  always  the  picture  of  neatness  ; 
the  fire,  the  wood  fire,  was  taken  care  of ;  Miss 
Fortune  seemed  to  know  by  instinct  when  it  wanted 
a  fresh  supply,  and  to  be  on  the  spot  by  magic  to 
give  it.  Ellen's  medicines  were  dealt  out  in  proper 
time ;  her  gruels  and  drinks  .  perfectly  well  made 
and  arranged  with  appetizing  nicety  on  a  little  table 
by  the  bedside  where  she  could  reach  them  her- 
self ;  and  Miss  Fortune  was  generally  at  hand  when 
she  was  wanted.  But  in  spite  of  all  this  there  was 
something  missing  in  that  sick  room, — there  was  a 
great  want ;  and  whenever  the  delirium  was  upon 
her  Ellen  made  no  secret  of  it.  She  was  never  vio- 
lent; but  she  moaned,  sometimes  impatiently  and 
sometimes  plaintively,  for  her  mother.  It  was  a 
vexation  to  Miss  Fortune  to  hear  her.  The  name 
of  her  mother  was  all  the  time  on  her  lips  ;  if  by 
chance  her  aunt's  name  came  in,  it  was  spoken  in 
a  way  that  generally  sent  her  bouncing  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Mamma,"  poor  Ellen  would  say,  "  just  lay  your 


326  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

hand  on  my  forehead,  will  you  ?  it's  so  hot.  Oh, 
do,  mamma ! — where  are  you  ?  Do  put  your  hand 
on  my  forehead,  won't  you  ? — Oh,  do  speaV  to  me, 
why  don't  you,  mamma?  Oh,  why  don't  she  come 
to  me  ?  " 

Once  when  Ellen  was  uneasily  calling  in  this 
fashion  for  her  mother's  hand,  Miss  Fortune  softly 
laid  her  own  upon  the  child's  brow ;  but  the  quick 
sudden  jerk  of  the  head  from  under  it  told  her  how 
well  Ellen  knew  the  one  from  the  other ;  and  little 
as  she  cared  for  Ellen  it  was  wormwood  to  her. 

Miss  Fortune  was  not  without  offers  of  help  dur- 
ing this  sick  time.  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,  and  afterwards 
Mrs.  Vawse,  asked  leave  to  come  and  nurse  Ellen ; 
but  Miss  Fortune  declared  it  was  more  plague  than 
profit  to  her,  and  she  couldn't  be  bothered  with 
having  strangers  about.  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  she 
suffered,  much  against  her  will,  to  come  for  a  day 
or  two :  at  the  end*  of  that  Miss  Fortune  found 
means  to  get  rid  of  her  civilly.  Mrs.  Vawse  she 
would  not  allow  to  stay  an  hour.  The  old  lady 
got  leave,  however,  to  go  up  to  the  sick  room  for  a 
few  minutes.  Ellen,  who  was  then  in  a  high  fever, 
informed  her  that  her  mother  was  downstairs,  and 
her  Aunt  Fortune  would  not  let  her  come  up  ;  she 
pleaded  with  tears  that  she  might  come,  and  en- 
treated Mrs.  Vawse  to  take  her  aunt  away  and  send 
her  mother.  Mrs.  Vawse  tried  to  soothe  her.  Miss 
Fortune  grew  impatient. 

"What  on  earth's  the  use,"  said  she,  "  of  talking 
to  a  child  that's  out  of  her  head  ?  she  can't  hear 
reason ;  that's  the  wav  she  gets  into  whenever  the 
fever's  on  her.  1  nave  tne  pleasure  of  hearing  that 
sort  of  thing  all  the  time.     Come  away,  Mrs.  Vawse, 


THE  WIDE    WIDE   WORLD.  327 

and  leave  ier;  she  cant  be  be.teranyway  than 
alone,  and  I  am  in  the  room  every  other  thing  ; — 
she's  just  as  well  quiet.  Nobody  knows,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,  on  her  way  down  the  stairs, — "  nobody 
knows  the  blessing  of  taking  care  of  other  people's 
children  that  ha'n't  tried  it.  I've  tried  it,  to  my 
heart's  content." 

Mrs.  Vawse  sighed,  but  departed  in  silence. 

It  was  not  when  the  fever  was  on  her  and  delir- 
ium high  that  Ellen  most  felt  the  want  she  then  so 
pitifully  made  known.  There  were  other  times, — ■ 
when  her  head  was  aching,  and  weary  and  weak  she 
lay  still  there, — olfc  how  she  longed  then  for  the 
dear  wonted  face ;  the  old  quiet  smile  that  carried 
so  much  of  comfort  and  assurance  with  it ;  the 
voice  that  was  like  heaven's  music ;  the  touch  of 
that  loved  hand  to  which  she  had  clung  for  so 
many  years  !  She  could  scarcely  bear  to  think  of 
it  sometimes.  In  the  still  wakeful  hours  of  night, 
when  the  only  sound  to  be  heard  was  the  heavy 
breathing  of  her  aunt  asleep  on  the  floor  by  -her 
side,  and  in  the  long  solitary  day,  when  the  only 
variety  to  be  looked  for  was  Miss  Fortune's  flitting 
in  and  out,  and  there  came  to  be  a  sameness  about 
that, — Ellen  mourned  her  loss  bitterly.  Many  and 
many  were  the  silent  tears  that  rolled  down  and 
wet  her  pillow  ;  many  a  long-drawn  sigh  came  from 
the  very  bottom  of  Ellen's  heart ;  she  was  too  weak 
and  subdued  now  for  violent  weeping.  She  won- 
dered sadly  why  Alice  did  not  come  to  see  her  ;  it 
was  another  great  grief  added  to  the  former.  She 
never  chose,  however,  to  mention  her  name  to  her 
aunt.  She  kept  her  wonder  and  her  sorrow  to  her- 
self,— all   the    harder  to  bear  for  that.     After  two 


328  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

weeks  Ellen  began  to  mend,  and  then  she  became 
exceeding  weary  of  being  alone  and  shut  up  to  her 
room.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  have  her  Bible  and 
hymn-book  lying  upon  the  bed,  and  a  great  com- 
fort when  she  was  able  to  look  at  a  few  words  ;  but 
that  was  not  very  often,  and  she  longed  to  see 
somebody,  and  hear  something  besides  her  aunt's 
dry  questions  and  answers. 

One  afternoon  Ellen  was  sitting,  alone  as  usual, 
bolstered  up  in  bed.  Her  little  hymn-book  was 
clasped  in  her  hand  ;  though  nc  t  equal  to  reading, 
she  felt  the  touch  of  it  a  solace  to  her.  Half  doz- 
ing, half  waking,  she  had  been^perfectly  quiet  for 
some  time,  when  the  sudden  and  not  very  gentle 
opening  of  the  room  door  caused  her  to  start  and 
open  her  eyes.  They  opened  wider  than  usual,  for 
instead  of  her  Aunt  Fortune  it  was  the  figure  of  Miss 
Nancy  Vawse  that  presented  itself.  She  came  in 
briskly,  and  shutting  the  door  behind  her,  advanced 
to  the  bedside. 

"  Well !  "  said  she, — "  there  you  are  !  Why  you 
look  smart  enough.     I've  come  to  see  you." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  said  Ellen,  uneasily. 

"  Miss  Fortune's  gone  out,  and  she  told  me  to 
come  and  take  care  of  you  ;  so  I'm  a-going  to  spend 
the  afternoon." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  said  Ellen  again. 

"  Yes — ain't  you  glad  ?  I  knew  you  must  be 
lonely,  so  I  thought  I'd  come." 

There  was  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  Nancy's 
eyes.  Ellen  for  once  in  her  life  wished  for  heu 
aunt's  presence. 

1 '  What  are  you  doing  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Ellen. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  329 

"  Nothing,  indeed  !  It's  a  fine  thing  to  lie  there 
■ind  do  nothing.  You  won't  get  well  in  a  hurry,  I 
guess,  will  you  ?  You  look  as  well  as  I  do  this 
minute.     Oh,  I  always  knew  you  was  a  sham." 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,"  said  Ellen,  in- 
dignantly ; — "  I  have  been  very  sick,  and  I  am  not 
at  all  well  yet." 

'*  Fiddle-de-dee  S  it's  very  nice  to  think  so ;  I 
guess  you're  lazy.  How  soft  and  good  those 
pillows  do  look  to  be  sure.  Come,  Ellen,  try  get- 
ting up  a  little,  /believe  you  hurt  yourself  with 
sleeping ;  it'll  do  you  good  to  be  out  of  bed  a 
while  ;  come  !  get  up  !  " 

She  pulled  Ellen's  arm  as  she  spoke. 

"  Stop,  Nancy,  let  me  alone  !  "  cried  Ellen,  strug- 
gling with  all  her  force, — "  I  mustn't — I  can't !  I 
mustn't  get  up  ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  I'm  not  able 
to  sit  up  at  all  ;  let  me  go  !  " 

She  succeeded  in  freeing  herself  from  Nancy's 
grasp. 

"  Well,  you're  an  obstinate  piece,"  said  the  other ; 
"  have  your  own  way.  But  mind,  I'm  left  in  charge 
of  you  ;  is  it  time  for  you  to  take  your  physic  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  taking  any,"  said  Ellen. 

"  What  are  you  taking  ? " 

"Nothing  but  gruel  and  little  things." 

"  '  Gruel  and  little  things  ; '  little  things  means 
something  good,  I  s'pose.  Well,  is  it  time  for  you 
to  take  some  gruel  or  one  of  the  little  things  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  want  any." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing  ;  people  never  know  what's 
good  for  them  ;  I'm  your  nurse  now,  and  I'm  going 
to  give  it  to  you  when  I  think  you  want  it.  Let 
me  feel  your  pulse — yes,  your  pulse  says  gruel  is 


33  o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

wanting.     I  shall  put  some    down  to  warm  right 

away." 

"  I  sha'n't  take  it,"  said  Ellen. 

"  That's  a  likely  story  I  You'd  better  not  say  so. 
I  rather  s'pose  you  will  iT  I  give  it  to  you.  Look 
here,  Ellen,  you'd  better  mind  how  you  behave ; 
you're  going  to  do  just  what  I  tell  you.  I  know 
how  to  manage  you;  if  you  make  any  fuss  I  shall 
just  tickle  you  finely,"  said  Nancy,  as  she  prepared 
a  bed  of  coals,  and  set  the  tin  cup  of  gruel  on  it  to 
get  hot. — "  I'll  do  it  in  no  time  at  all,  my  young 
lady— so  you'd  better  mind." 

Poor  Ellen  involuntar^y  curled  up  he*  feet  under 
the  bedclothes,  so  as  to  get  them  as  far  as  possible 
out  of  harm's  way.  She  judged  the  best  thing  was 
to  keep  quiet  if  she  could ;  so  she  said  nothing. 
Nancy  was  in  great  glee ;  with  something  of  the 
same  spirit  of  mischief  that  a  cat  shows  when  she 
has  a  captured  mouse  at  the  end  of  her  paws. 
While  the  gruel  was  heating  she  spun  round  the 
room  in  quest  of  amusement ;  and  her  sudden  jerks 
and  flings  from  one  place  and  thing  to  another  had 
so  much  of  lawlessness  that  Ellen  was  in  perpetual 
terror  as  to  what  she  might  take  it  into  her  head 
to  do  next. 

"  Where  does  that  door  lead  to  ?  " 

"  I  believe  that  one  leads  to  the  garret,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  You  believe  so  ?  Why  don't  you  say  it  does,  at 
once  ? " 

"  I  have  not  been  up  to  see." 

"  You  haven't !  you  expect  me  to  believe  that,  I 
s'pose  ?  I  am  not  quite  such  a  gull  as  you  take  me 
tor  !     What's  up  there  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  331 

Si  I  don't  know,  of  course." 

"  Of  course  !  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  you 
are  up  to  exactly ;  but  if  you  won't  tell  me  I'll  find 
out  for  myself  pretty  quick, — that's  one  thing." 

She  flung  open  the  door  and  ran  up  ;  and  Ellen 
heard  her  feet  tramping  overhead  from  one  end  of 
the  house  to  the  other ;  and  sounds,  too,  of  pushing 
and  pulling  things  over  the  floor ;  it  was  plain 
Nancy  was  rummaging. 

"Well,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  turned  uneasily  upon 
her  bed,  "  it's  no  affair  of  mine ;  I  can't  help  it, 
whatever  she  does.  But,  oh  !  won't  Aunt  Fortune 
be  angry  ! " 

Nancy  presently  came  down  with  her  frock 
gathered  up  into  a  bag  before  her. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  have  got  here  ? "  said  she. 
"  I  s'pose  you  didn't  know  there  was  a  basket  of 
fine  hickory  nuts  up  there  in  the  corner  ?  Was  it 
you  or  Miss  Fortune  that  hid  them  away  so  nicely  ? 
I  s'pose  she  thought  nobody  would  ever  think  of 
looking  behind  that  great  blue  chest  and  under  the 
feather  bed,  but  it  takes  me  ! — Miss  Fortune  was 
afraid  of  your  stealing  'em,  I  guess,  Ellen  ? " 

"  She  needn't  have  been,"  said  Ellen,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  No,  I  s'pose  you  wouldn't  take  'em  if  you  saw 
'em  ;  you  wouldn't  eat  them  if  they  were  cracked 
for  you,  would  you  ?  " 

She  flung  some  on  Ellen's  bed  as  she  spoke. 
Nancy  had  seated  herself  on  the  floor,  and  using  for 
a  hammer  a  piece  of  old  iron  she  had  brought  down 
with  her  from  the  garret,  she  was  cracking  the  nuts 
on  the  clean  white  hearth. 

"  Indeed  I  wouldn't !  "  said  Ellen,  throwing  them 


332  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

bark ;  "  and  you  oughtn't  to  crack  them  there, 
Nancy, — you'll  make  a  dreadful  muss." 

"  What  do  you  think  I  care  ?  "  said  the  other, 
scornfully.  She  leisurely  cracked  and  ate  as  many 
as  she  pleased  of  the  nuts,  bestowing  the  rest  in  the 
bosom  of  her  frock.  Ellen  watched  fearfully  for 
her  next  move.  If  she  should  open  the  little  door 
and  get  among  her  books  and  boxes  ! 

Nancy's  first  care,  however,  was  the  cup  of  gruel. 
It  was  found  too  hot  for  any  mortal  lips  to  bear,  so 
it  was  set  on  one  side  to  cool.  Then  taking  up  her 
rambling  examination  of  the  room,  she  went  frorr* 
window  to  window. 

"  What  fine  big  windows  !  one  might  get  in  here 
easy  enough.  I  declare,  Ellen,  some  night  I'll  set 
the  ladder  up  against  here,  and  the  first  thing 
you'll  see  will  be  me  coming  in.  You'll  have  me 
to  sleep  with  you  before  you  think." 

"  T'll  fasten  my  windows,"  said  Ellen. 

"  No,  you  won't.  You'll  do  it  a  night  or  two, 
maybe,  but  then  you'll  forget  it.  I  shall  find  them 
open  when  I  come,     Oh,  I'll  come  !  " 

"  But  I  could  call  Aunt  Fortune,"  p-tfd  Ellen. 

"  No,  you  couldn't,  'cause  if  you  spoke  a  word 
I'd  tickle  you  to  death ;  that's  what  I'd  do.  I 
know  how  to  fix  you  off.  And  if  you  did  call  her 
I'd  just  whap  out  of  the  window  and  run  off  with 
my  ladder,  and  then  you'd  get  a  fine  combing  for 
disturbing  the  house.     What's  in  this  trunk  ?  " 

"  Only  my  clothes  and  things,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  goody !  that's  fine  ;  now,  I'll  have  a  look 
at  'em.  That's  just  what  I  wanted,  only  I  didn't 
know  it.  Where's  the  key  ?  Oh,  here  it  is  sticking 
^a — that's  good  !  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  333 

"  Oh,  please  don't !  "  said  Ellen,  raising  herself 
on  her  elbow,  "  they're  all  in  nice  order  and  you'll 
get  them  all  in  confusion.  Oh,  do  let  them 
alone  !  " 

"  You'd  best  be  quiet  or  I'll  come  and  see  you," 
said  Nancy ;  "  I'm  just  going  to  look  at  everything 
in  it,  and  if  I  find  anything  out  of  sorts,  you'll  get 
it. — What's  this  ?  ruffles,  I  declare  !  ain't  you  fine  ? 
I'll  see  how  they  look  on  me.  What  a  plague ! 
you  haven't  a  glass  in  the  room.  Never  mind, — 
I  am  used  to  dressing  without  a  glass." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  wouldn't,"  said  Ellen,  who  was 
worried  to  the  last  degree  at  seeing  her  nicely 
done-up  ruffles  round  Nancy's  neck  ; — "  they're  so 
nice,  and  you'll  muss  them  all  up." 

"  Don't  cry  about  it,"  said  Nancy,  coolly,  "  I 
ain't  a-going  to  eat  'em.  My  goodness  !  what  a  fine 
hood  !  ain't  that  pretty  ? " 

The  nice  blue  hood  was  turning  about  in  Nancy's 
fingers,  and  well  looked  at  inside  and  out.  Ellen 
was  in  distress  for  fear  it  would  go  on  Nancy's 
head,  as  well  as  the  ruffles  round  her  neck  ;  but  it 
didn't;  she  flung  it  at  length  on  one  side,  and 
went  on  pulling  out  one  thing  after  another,  strew- 
ing them  very  carelessly  about  the  floor. 

"  What's  here  ? — a  pair  of  dirty  stockings  as 
I  am  alive.  Ain't  you  ashamed  to  put  dirty  stock- 
ings in  your  trunk  ?  " 

"  They  are  no  such  thing,"  said  Ellen,  who  in 
her  vexation  was  in  danger  of  forgetting  her 
fear, — "  I've  worn  them  but  once." 

"They've  no  business  in  here,  anyhow,"  said 
Nancy,  rolling  them  up  in  a  hard  ball  and  giving 
them  a  sudden  fling  at  Ellen.     They  just  missea 


334  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

her  face  and  struck  the  wall  beyond.  Ellen  seized 
them  to  throw  back,  but  her  weakness  warned  her 
she  was  not  able,  and  a  moment  reminded  her  of 
*he  folly  of  doing  anything  to  rouse  Nancy,  who 
for  the  present  was  pretty  quiet.  Ellen  lay  upon 
her  pillow  and  looked  on,  ready  to  cry  with  vexa- 
tion. All  her  nicely  stowed  piles  of  white  clothes 
were  ruthlessly  hurled  out  and  tumbled  about; 
her  capes  tried  on  ;  her  summer  dresses  unfolded, 
displayed,  criticised.  Nancy  decided  one  was  too 
short;  another  very  ugly  ;  a  third  horribly  ill-made  ; 
and  when  she  had  done  with  each  it  was  cast  out 
of  her  way  on  one  side  or  the  other  as  the  case 
might  be. 

The  floor  was  littered  with  clothes  in  various 
states  of  disarrangement  and  confusion.  The  bot- 
tom of  the  trunk  was  reached  at  last,  and  then 
Nancy  suddenly  recollected  her  gruel,  and  sprang 
to  it.     But  it  had  grown  cold  again. 

"  This  won't  do,"  said  Nancy,  as  she  put  it  on 
the  coals  again, — "  it  must  be  just  right ;  it'll  warm 
soon,  and  then,  Miss  Ellen,  you're  a-going  to  take 
it,  whether  or  no.  I  hope  you  won't  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  pouring  it  down." 

Meanwhile  she  opened  the  little  door  of  Ellen's 
study  closet  and  went  in  there,  though  Ellen 
begged  her  not.  She  pulled  the  door  to,  and  stayed 
some  time  perfectly  quiet.  Not  able  to  see  or  hear 
what  she  was  doing,  and  fretted  beyond  measure 
that  her  work-box  and  writing-desk  should  be  at 
Nancy's  mercy,  or  even  feel  the  touch  of  her 
fingers,  Ellen  at  last  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but 
threw  herself  out  of  the  bed,  weak  as  she  was,  and 
went  to  see  what  was  going  on.     Nancy  was  seated 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


IZ\ 


quietly  on  the  floor,  examining  with  much  seeming 
interest  the  contents  of  the  work-box  ;  trying  on 
the  thimble,  cutting  bits  of  thread  with  the  scissors, 
and  marking  the  ends  of  the  spools  ;  with  whatever 
like  pieces  of  mischief  her  restless  spirit  could 
devise  ;  but  when  Ellen  opened  the  door  she  put 
the  box  from  her  and  started  up. 

"  My  goodness  me  !  "  said  she,  "  this'll  never  do. 
What  are  you  out  here  for  ?  you'll  catch  your  death 
with  those  dear  little  bare  feet,  and  we  shall  have 
the  mischief  to  pay." 

As  she  said  this  she  caught  up  Ellen  in  her  arms 
as  if  she  had  been  a  baby,  and  carried  her  back  to 
the  bed,  where  she  laid  her  with  two  or  three  little 
shakes,  and  then  proceeded  to  spread  up  the 
clothes  and  tuck  her  in  all  round.  She  then  ran 
for  the  gruel.  Ellen  was  in  great  question  whether 
to  give  way  to  tears  or  vexation  ;  but  with  some 
difficulty  determined  upon  vexation  as  the  best 
plan.  Nancy  prepared  the  gruel  to  her  liking,  and 
brought  it  to  the  bedside  ;  but  to  get  it  swallowed 
was  another  matter.  Nancy  was  resolved  Ellen 
should  take  it.  Ellen  had  less  strength  but  quite 
as  much  obstinacy  as  her  enemy,  and  she  was 
equally  resolved  not  to  drink  a  drop.  Between 
laughing  on  Nancy's  part,  and  very  serious  anger 
on  Ellen's,  a  struggle  ensued.  Nancy  tried  to  force 
it  down,  but  Ellen's  shut  teeth  were  as  firm  as  a 
vice,  and  the  end  was  that  two-thirds  were  bestowed 
on  the  sheet.  Ellen  burst  into  tears.  Nancy 
laughed. 

"  Well,  I  do  think,"  said  she,  "  you  are  one  of 
the  hardest  customers  ever  I  came  across.  I 
shouldn't  want  to  have  the  managing  of  you   when 


l^fi  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

you  get  a  little  bigger.  Oh,  the  way  Miss  Fortune 
will  look  when  she  comes  in  here  will  be  a  caution  ! 
Oh,  what  fun  !  " 

Nancy  shouted  and  clapped  her  hands.  "  Come, 
stop  crying  ! "  said  she,  "  what  a  baby  you  are ! 
what  are  you  crying  for  ?  come  stop  ! — I'll  make  you 
laugh  if  you  don't." 

Two  or  three  little  applications  of  Nancy's 
fingers  made  her  words  good,  but  laughing  was 
mixed  with  crying,  and  Ellen  writhed  in  hysterics. 
Just  then  came  a  little  knock  at  the  door.  Ellen 
did  not  hear  it,  but  it  quieted  Nancy.  She  stood 
still  a  moment ;  and  then  as  the  knock  was  repeated, 
she  called  out  boldly,  "  Come  in  !  "  Ellen  raised 
her  head  "  to  see  who  there  might  be  ;  "  and  great 
was  the  surprise  of  both  and  the  joy  of  one  as  the 
tall  form  and  broad  shoulders  of  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
presented  themselves. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  sobbed  Ellen,  "  I  am  so 
glad  to  see  you  !  won't  you  please  send  Nancy 
away  ? " 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  said  the  astonished 
Dutchman. 

"  Look  and  see,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Nancy, 
with  a  smile  of  mischief's  own  curling  ;  "  you  won't 
be  long  finding  out,  I  guess." 

"  Take  yourself  off,  and  don't  let  me  hear  of  your 
being  caught  here  again." 

"  I'll  go  when  I'm  ready,  thank  you,"  said  Nancy  ; 
"  and  as  to  the  rest  I  haven't  been  caught  the  first 
time  yet ;  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

She  sprang  as  she  finished  her  sentence,  for  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  made  a  sudden  movement  to  catch  her 
then  and  there.     He  was  foiled  ;  and  then  began  a 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  337 

running  chase  round  the  room,  in  the  course  of 
wince  Nancy  dodged,  pushed,  and  sprang,  with  a 
power  of  squeezing  by  impassables  and  over- 
leaping impossibilities,  that  to  say  the  least  of  it  was 
remarkable.  The  room  was  too  small  for  her,  and 
she  was  caught  at  last. 

"  I  vow,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  as  he  pinioned 
her  hands,  "  I  should  like  to  see  you  play  blind 
man's  buff  for  once,  if  I  weren't  the  blind  man." 

"  How'd  you  see  me  if  you  was  ?  "  said  Nancy, 
scornfully. 

"  Now,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  as  he 
brought  her  to  Ellen's  bedside,  "  here  she  is  safe ; 
what  shall  I  do  with  her  ? " 

"  If  you  will  only  send  her  away,  and  not  let  her 
come  back,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! "  said  Ellen,  "  I'll  be 
so  much  obliged  to  you  !  " 

"Let  me  go!"  said  Nancy.  "I  declare  you're 
a  real  mean  Dutchman,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  one,  and  laid  the 
other  lightly  over  her  ears. 

"  I'll  let  you  go,"  said  he.  "  Now,  don't  you 
be  caught  here  again  if  you  know  what  is  good  foi 
yourself." 

He  saw  Miss  Nancy  out  of  the  door,  and  then 
came  back  to  Ellen,  who  was  crying  heartily  again 
from  nervous  vexation. 

"  She's  gone,"  said  he.  "What  has  that  wicked 
thing  been  doing,  Miss  Ellen  ?  what's  the  mattei 
with  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Ellen,  "you  can't 
think  how  she  has  worried  me ;  she  has  been  here 
this  great  while ;  just  look  at  all  my  things  on  the 
floor,  and  that  isn't  the  half." 
22 


^8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  gave  a  long  whistle  as  his  eye 
surveyed  the  tokens  of  Miss  Nancy's  mischief-mak- 
ing, over  and  through  which  both  she  and  himself 
had  been  chasing  at  full  speed,  making  the  state 
of  matters  rather  worse  than  it  was  before. 

"  I  do  say,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  that  is  too  bad. 
I'd  fix  them  up  again  for  you,  Miss  Ellen,  if  I  knew 
fow  ;  but  my  hands  are  a'most  as  clumsy  as  my 
.feet,  and  I  see  the  marks  of  them  there  ;  it's  too 
bad,  I  declare  ;  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  going 
on. 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Ellen,—"  I 
don't  mind  what  you've  done  a  bit.  I'm  so  glad 
to  see  you !  " 

She  put  out  her  little  hand  to  him  as  she  spoke. 
He  took  it  in  his  own  silently,  but  though  he  said 
and  showed  nothing  of  it,  Ellen's  look  and  tone  of 
affection  thrilled  his  heart  with  pleasure. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  he,  kindly. 

"I'm  a  great  deal  better,"  said  Ellen.  "Sit 
down,  won't  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  I  want  to  see 
you  a  little." 

Horses  wouldn't  have  drawn  him  away  after  that. 
He  sat  down. 

"  Ain't  you  going  to  be  up  again  some  of  these 
days  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  hope  so,"  said  Ellen,  sighing ;  "  I 
am  very  tired  of  lying  here." 

He  looked  round  the  room  ;  got  up  and  mended 
rhe  fire  ;  then  came  and  sat  down  again. 

"  I  was  up  yesterday  for  a  minute,"  said  Ellen, 
:but  the  chair  tired  me  so  I  was  glad  to  get  back 
CO  bed  again." 

It  was  no  wonder  ;  harder  and  straighter-backed 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  339 

chairs  never  were  invented.  Probably  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  thought  so. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  a  rocking-cheer  ?  " 
said  he  suddenly,  as  if  a  bright  thought  had  struck 
him. 

"Oh,  yes,  how  much  I  should!"  said  Ellen, 
with  another  long  drawn  breath,  u  but  there  isn't 
such  a  thing  in  the  house  that  ever  I  saw." 

"  Ay,  but  there  is  in  other  houses,  though,"  said 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  with  as  near  an  approach  to  a 
smile  as  his  lips  commonly  made  ; — "  we'll  see  !  " 

Ellen  smiled  more  broadly.  "  But  don't  you 
give  yourself  any  trouble  for  me,"  said  she. 

"  Trouble  indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  "  I 
don't  know  anything  about  that.  How  came  that 
wicked  thing  up  here  to  plague  you  ? " 

"  She  said  Aunt  Fortune  left  her  to  take  care  of 
me." 

"  That's  one  of  her  lies.  Your  aunt's  gone  out, 
I  know ;  but  she's  a  trifle  wiser  than  to  do  such  a 
thing  as  that.  She  has  plagued  you  badly,  ha'n't 
she?" 

He  might  have  thought  so.  The  color  which  ex- 
citement brought  into  Ellen's  face  had  faded  away, 
and  she  had  settled  herself  back  against  her  pillow 
with  an  expression  of  weakness  and  weariness  that 
the  strong  man  saw  and  felt. 

"  What  is  there  I  can  do  for  you  ? "  said  he,  with 
a  gentleness  that  seemed  almost  strange  from  such 
lips. 

"  If  you  would,"  said  Ellen  faintly  — "  if  you 
could  be  so  kind  as  to  read  me  a  hymn  ? — I  should 
be  so  glad.     I've  had  nobody  to  read  to  me." 

Her  hand  put  the  little  book  towards  him  as  she 
said  so. 


340  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  vastly  rather  any  one  had 
asked  him  to  plough  an  acre.  He  was  to  the  full 
as  much  confounded  as  poor  Ellen  had  once  been 
at  a  request  of  his.  He  hesitated,  and  looked  to- 
wards Ellen,  wishing  for  an  excuse.  But  the  pale 
little  face  that  lay  there  against  the  pillow, — the 
drooping  eyelids,  — the  meek,  helpless  look  of  the 
little  child,  put  all  excuses  out  of  his  head  ;  and 
though  he  would  have  chosen  to  do  almost  any- 
thing else,  he  took  the  book  and  asked  her 
"  Where  ? "  She  said  an-where  ;  and  he  took  the 
first  he  saw. 

"  Poor,  weak,  and  worthless  though  I  am, 
I  have  a  rich  almighty  Friend  ; 
Jesus  the  Saviour  is  His  name, 
He  freely  loves,  and  without  end. " 

"  Oh,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  sigh  of  pleasure,  and 
folding  her  hands  on  her  breast, — "  how  lovely  that 
is ! " 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  a  moment  and 
tnen  went  on  with  increased  gravity. 

"  He  ransom'd  me  from  hell  with  blood, 
And  by  His  pow'r  my  foes  controll'd; 
He  found  me  wand'ring  far  from  God, 
And  brought  me  to  His  chosen  fold." 

"  Fold  ?  "  said  Ellen,  opening  her  eyes  ;  "  what 
is  that  ?  " 

"  It's  where  sheep  are  penned,  ain't  it  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  after  a  pause. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Ellen,  "  that's  it ;  I  remember ; 
that's  like  what  he  said,  '  I  am  the  good  shepherd,' 
and  *  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  ;  '  I  know  now. 
Go  on,  please." 

He  finished  the  hymn  without  more  interruption, 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  341 

Looking  again  towards  Ellen,  he  was  surprised  to  see 
several  large  tears  rinding  their  way  down  her  cheek 
from  under  the  wet  eyelash.  But  she  quickly  wiped 
them  away. 

"  What  do  you  read  them  things  for,"  said  he, 
"  if  they  make  you  feel  bad  ?  " 

"  Feel  bad  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  Oh,  they  don't ; 
they  make  me  happy  ;  I  love  them  dearly.  I  never 
read  that  one  before.  You  can't  think  how  much  I 
am  obliged  to  you  for  reading  it  to  me.  Will  you 
let  me  see  where  it  is  ? " 

He  gave  it  her. 

"  Yes,  there's  his  mark  !  "  said  Ellen,  with  spark- 
ling eyes.  "  Now,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  would  you  be  so 
very  good  as  to  read  it  once  more  ?  " 

He  obeyed.  It  was  easier  this  time.  She  list- 
ened as  before,  with  closed  eyes,  but  the  color 
came  and  went  once  or  twice. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said,  when  he  had 
done.     "  Are  you  going  ? " 

"  I  must ;  I  have  some  things  to  look  after." 

She  held  his  hand  still. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt, — don't  yon  love  hymns  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  'em,  Miss  Ellen." 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  are  you  one  of  that  fold  ? " 

"What  fold?" 

"  The  fold  of  Christ's  people." 

"  I'm  afeard  not,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  he,  soberly, 
after  a  minute's  pause. 

"  Because,"  said  Ellen,  bursting  into  tears,  "  I 
wish  you  were,  very  much." 

She  carried  the  great  brown  hand  to  her  lips  be- 
fore she  let  it  go.  He  went  without  saying  a  word. 
.But  when  he  got  out  he  stopped  and  looked  at  a 


342  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

little  tear  she  had  left  on  the  back  of  it.  And  he 
looked  till  one  of  his  own  fell  there  to  keep  it 
company. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Oh,  that  had,  how  sad  a  passage  'tis 

Shakspeare. 

The  next  day,  about  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, a  light  step  crossed  the  shed,  and  the  great 
door  opening  gently,  in  walked  Miss  Alice  Hum- 
phreys. The  room  was  all  "  redd  up,"  and  Miss 
Fortune  and  her  mother  sat  there  at  work ;  one 
picking  over  white  beans  at  the  table,  the  other  in 
her  usual  seat  by  the  fire  and  at  her  usual  employ- 
ment, which  was  knitting.  Alice  came  forward  and 
asked  the  old  lady  how  she  did. 

"  Pretty  well — O,  pretty  well !  " — she  answered, 
with  the  look  of  bland  good-humor  her  face  almost 
always  wore, — "  and  glad  to  see  you,  dear.  Take 
a  chair." 

Alice  did  so,  quite  aware  that  the  other  person 
in  the  room  was  not  glad  to  see  her. 

"  And  how  goes  the  wrorld  with  you,  Miss  Fort- 
une ? " 

"  Humph  !  it's  a  queer  kind  of  a  world,  I  think," 
answered  that  lady,  dryly,  sweeping  some  of  the 
picked  beans  into  her  pan  ; — "  I  get  a'most  sick  of 
it  sometimes." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ? "  said  Alice,  pleas- 
antly ;  "  may  I  ask  ?  Has  anything  happened  to 
trouble  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  the  other,  somewhat  impatiently ; 
u  nothing  that's  any  matter  to  a^v  one  but  myself; 
it's  no  use  speaking  about  it." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  343 

"  Ah  !  Fortune  never  would  take  the  world  easy," 
said  the  old  woman,  shaking  her  head  from  side  to 
side  ; — "  never  would  ; — I  never  could  get  her  to." 

"  Now,  do  hush,  mother,  will  you  ?  "  said  her 
daughter,  turning  round  upon  her  with  startling 
sharpness  of  look  and  tone  : — "  '  take  the  world 
tasy  ! '  you  always  did  ;  I  am  glad  I  ain't  like  you." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  a  bad  way  after  all,"  said 
Alice  ;  "  what's  the  use  of  taking  it  hard,  Miss 
Fortune  ?  " 

"  The  way  one  goes  on  !  "  said  that  lady,  picking 
away  at  her  beans  very  fast  and  not  answering 
Alice's  question, — "  I'm  tired  of  it  ; — toil,  toil,  and 
drive,  drive, — from  morning  to  night ; — and  what's 
the  end  of  it  all  ? !  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  Alice,  gravely,  "  if  our  toiling 
looks  no  further  than  this  world.  When  we  go  we 
shall  carry  nothing  away  with  us.  I  should  think 
it  would  be  very  wearisome  to  toil  only  for  what  we 
cannot  keep  nor  stay  long  to  enjoy." 

"  It's  a  pity  you  warn't  a  minister,  Miss  Alice," 
said  Miss  Fortune,  dryly. 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Fortune,"  said  Alice,  smiling,, 
"  the  family  would  be  overstocked.  My  father  is 
one  and  my  brother  will  be  another  ;  a  third  would 
be  too  much.  You  must  be  so  good  as  to  let  me 
preach  without  taking  orders." 

"  Well,  I  wish  every  minister  was  as  good  a  one 
as  you'd  make,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  her  hard  face 
giving  way  a  little  ; — "  at  any  rate  nobody'd  mind 
anything  you'd  say,  Miss  Alice." 

"  That  would  be  unlucky,  in  one  sense,"  said 
Alice  ;  "  but  I  believe  I  know  what  you  mean.  But, 
Miss  Fortune,  no  one  would  dream  the  world  went 


344  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

very  hard  with  you.  I  don't  know  anybody  J 
think  lives  in  more  independent  comfort  and  plenty 
and  has  things  more  to  her  mind.  I  never  come 
to  the  house  that  I  am  not  struck  with  the  fine  look 
of  the  farm  and  all  that  belongs  to  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  nodding  her  head  two 
or  three  times,  "  Mr.  Van  Brunt  is  a  good  farmer — 
very  good — there's  no  doubt  about  that." 

"  I  wonder  what  he'd  do,"  said  Miss  Fortune, 
quickly  and  sharply  as  before,  "  if  there  warn't  ahead 
to  manage  for  him  ! — Oh,  the  farm's  well  enough, 
Miss  Alice, — 'tain't  that ;  everyone  knows  where  his 
own  shoe  pinches." 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  into  the  secret  then,  Miss 
Fortune  ;  I'm  a  cobbler  by  profession." 

Miss  Fortune's  ill-humor  was  giving  way,  but 
something  disagreeable  seemed  again  to  cross  her 
mind.     Her  brow  darkened. 

"  I  say  it's  a  poor  kind  of  world,  and  I'm  sick  of 
it !  One  may  slave  and  slave  one's  life  out  for 
other  people,  and  what  thanks  do  you  get  ? — I'm 
sick  of  it." 

"  There's  a  little  body  upstairs,  or  I'm  much 
mistaken,  who  will  give  you  very  sincere  thanks 
for  every  kindness  shown  her." 

Miss  Fortune  tossed  her  head,  and  brushing  the 
refuse  beans  into  her  lap,  she  pushed  back  her 
chair  with  a  jerk  to  go  to  the  fire  with  them. 

"  Much  you  know  about  her,  Miss  Alice  ! 
Thanks  indeed  !  I  haven't  seen  the  sign  of  such  a 
thing  since  she's  been  here,  for  all  I  have  worked 
and  worked  and  had  plague  enough  with  her,  I 
am  sure.  Deliver  me  from  other  people's  children, 
say  I  !  " 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  345 

"  After  all,  Miss  Fortune,"  said  Alice,  soberly, 
"  it  is  not  what  we  do  for  people  that  makes  them 
love  us, — or  at  least  everything  depends  on  the 
way  things  are  done.  A  look  of  love,  a  word  of 
kindness,  goes  further  towards  winning  the  heart, 
than  years  of  service  or  benefaction  mountain-high 
without  them.''' 

"  Does  she  say  I  am  unkind  to  her  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Fortune,  fiercely. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Alice,  "words  on  her  part 
are  unnecessary ;  it  is  easy  to  see  from  your  own 
that  there  is  no  love  lost  between  you,  and  I  am 
very  sorry  it  is  so." 

"  Love  indeed  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  with  great 
indignation ;  "  there  never  was  any  to  lose  I  can 
assure  you.  She  plagues  the  very  life  out  of  me. 
Why,  she  hadn't  been  here  three  days  before  she 
went  off  with  that  girl  Nancy  Vawse  that  I  had 
told  her  never  to  go  near,  and  was  gone  all  night ; 
that's  the  time  she  got  in  the  brook.  And  if  you'd 
seen  her  face  when  1  was  scolding  her  about  it ! — 
it  was  like  seven  thunder  clouds.  Much  you  know 
about  it !  I  dare  say  she's  very  sweet  to  you  ; 
that's  the  way  she  is  to  everybody  beside  me — 
they  all  think  she's  too  good  to  live  ;  and  it  just 
makes  me  mad  !  " 

"  She  told  me  herself,"  said  Alice,  "  of  her  be- 
having ill  another  time,  about  her  mother's  letter." 

"  Yes — that  was  another  time.  I  wish  you'd 
seen  her  ! " 

"  I  believe  she  saw  and  felt  her  fault  in  that  case. 
Didn't  she  ask  your  pardon  ?  she  said  she  would." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  dryly,  "  after  a 
fashion." 


346  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Has  she  had  her  letter  yet?  " 

"  No." 

"  How  is  she  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  well  enough — she's  sitting  up.  You 
can  go  up  and  see  her." 

"  I  will,  directly,"  said  Alice.  "  But  now,  Miss 
Fortune,  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you, — will 
you  do  me  a  great  pleasure  ?  " 

"Certainly,  Miss  Alice, — if  I  can." 

"  If  you  think  Ellen  has  been  sufficiently  punished 
for  her  ill-behavior — if  you  do  not  think  it  right  to 
withhold  her  letter  still, — will  you  let  me  have  the 
pleasure  of  giving  it  to  her  ?  I  should  take  it  as  a 
great  favor  to  myself." 

Miss  Fortune  made  no  kind  of  reply  to  this,  but 
stalked  out  of  the  room,  and  in  a  few  minutes  stalked 
in  again  with  the  letter,  which  she  gave  to  Alice, 
only  saying  shortly,  "  It  came  to  me  in  a,  letter  from 
her  father." 

"  You  are  willing  she  should  have  it  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  Oh,  yes  ! — do  what  you  like  with  it." 

Alice  now  went  softly  upstairs.  She  found  Ellen's 
door  a  little  ajar,  and  looking  in  could  see  Ellen 
seated  in  a  rocking  chair  between  the  door  and  the 
fire,  in  her  double-gown,  and  with  her  hymn-book  in 
hand.  It  happened  that  Ellen  had  spent  a  good 
part  of  that  afternoon  in  crying  for  her  lost  letter ; 
and  the  face  that  she  turned  to  the  door  on  hearing 
some  slight  noise  outside,  was  very  white  and  thin 
indeed.  And  though  it  was  placid  too,  her  eye 
searched  the  crack  of  the  door  with  a  keen  wistful- 
ness  that  went  to  Alice's  heart.  But  as  the  door 
was  gently  pushed  open,  and  the  eye  caught  the 
figure  that  stood  behind  it,  the  sudden  and  entire 


THE  WIDE.  WIDE   WORLD. 


347 


change  of  expression  took  away  all  her  powers  of 
speech.  Ellen's  face  became  radiant ;  she  rose 
from  her  chair,  and  as  Alice  silently  came  in  and 
kneeling  down  to  be  near  her  took  her  in  her  arms, 
Ellen  put  both  hers  round  Alice's  neck  and  laid  her 
face  there ; — one  was  too  happy  and  the  other  too 
touched  to  say  a  word. 

"  My  poor  child  !  "  was  Alice's  first  expression. 

"  No,  I  ain't,"  said  Ellen,  tightening  the  squeeze 
of  her  arms  round  Alice's  neck  •  "  I  am  not  poor  at 
all  now." 

Alice  presently  rose,  sat  down  in  the  rocking- 
chair  and  took  Ellen  in  her  lap  ;  and  Ellen  rested 
her  head  on  her  bosom  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do 
of  old  time  on  her  mother's. 

"  I  am  too  happy,"  she  murmured.  But  she  was 
weeping,  and  the  current  of  tears  seemed  to  gather 
force  as  it  flowed.  What  was  little  Ellen  thinking 
of  just  then  ?  O  those  times  gone  by  ! — when  she 
had  sat  just  so  ;  her  head  pillowed  on  another  as 
gentle  a  breast ;  kind  arms  wrapped  round  her,  just 
as  now ;  the  same  little  old  double-gown ;  the 
same  weak  helpless  feeling  ;  the  same  committing 
herself  to  the  strength  and  care  of  another  ; — how 
much  the  same,  and  oh  !  how  much  not  the  same  I 
— and  Ellen  knew  both.  Blessing  as  she  did  the 
breast  on  which  she  leaned  and  the  arms  whose 
pressure  she  felt,  they  yet  reminded  her  sadly  of 
those  most  loved  and  so  very  far  away  ;  and  it  was 
an  odd  mixture  of  relief  and  regret,  joy  and  sorrow, 
gratified  and  ungratified  affection,  that  opened  the 
sluices  of  her  eyes.     Tears  poured. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  love  ? "  said  Alice, 
softly. 


348  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD, 

"  I  don;t  know,"  whispered  Ellen. 

"  Are  you  so  glad  to  see  me  ?  or  so  sorry  ?  or 
what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  glad  and  sorry  both,  I  think,"  said  Ellen, 
with  a  long  breath,  and  sitting  up. 

"  Have  you  wanted  me  so  much,  my  poor  child  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much,"  said  Ellen,  her 
words  cut  short. 

"  And  didn't  you  know  that  I  have  been  sick 
too  ?  What  did  you  think  had  become  of  me  ? 
Why,  Mrs.  Vawse  was  with  me  a  whole  week,  and 
this  is  the  very  first  day  I  have  been  able  to  go  out. 
It  is  so  fine  to-day  I  was  permitted  to  ride  Sharp 
down." 

"Was  that  it?"  said  Ellen.  "  I  did  wonder, 
Miss  Alice — I  did  wonder  very  much  why  you  did 
not  come  to  see  me,  but  I  never  liked  to  ask  Aunt 
Fortune,  because " 

"  Because  what  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  say  what  I  was  go- 
ing to ;  I  had  a  feeling  she  would  be  glad  about 
what  I  was  sorry  about." 

"  Don't  know  that  you  ought  to  say,"  said  Alice. 
"  Remember,  you  are  to  study  English  with  me." 

Ellen  smiled  a  glad  smile. 

"  And  you  have  had  a  weary  two  weeks  of  it. 
haven't  you,  dear  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Ellen,  with  another  long-drawn  sigh, 
"  how  weary  !  Part  of  that  time,  to  be  sure,  I  was 
out  of  my  head ;  but  I  have  got  so  tired  lying  here 
all  alone  ;  Aunt  Fortune  coming  in  and  out  was 
just  as  good  as  nobody." 

"  Poor  child  !  "  said  Alice,  "  you  have  had  a  worse 
time  than  I  " 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  349 

"  I  used  to  lie  and  watch  that  crack  in  the  door 
at  the  foot  of  my  bed,"  said  Ellen,  "  and  I  got  so 
tired  of  it  I  hated  to  see  it  ;  but  when  I  opened  my 
eyes  I  couldn't  help  looking  at  it,  and  watching  all 
the  little  ins  and  outs  in  the  crack  till  I  was  as  sick 
of  it  as  could  be.  And  that  button,  too,  that  fast- 
ens the  door,  and  the  little  round  mark  the  button 
has  made,  and  thinking  how  far  the  button  went 
round.  And  then  if  I  looked  towards  the  windows 
I  would  go  right  to  counting  the  panes,  first  up  and 
down  and  then  across ;  and  I  didn't  want  to  count 
them,  but  I  couldn't  help  it ;  and  watching  to  see 
through  which  pane  the  sky  looked  brightest.  Oh, 
I  got  so  sick  of  it  all !  There  was  only  the  fire  that 
I  didn't  get  tired  of  looking  at ;  I  always  liked  to 
lie  and  look  at  that,  except  when  it  hurt  my  eyes. 
And  oh,  how  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Miss  Alice ! 
You  can't  think  how  sad  I  felt  that  you  didn't  come 
to  see  me.  I  couldn't  think  what  could  be  the 
matter." 

"  I  should  have  been  with  you,  dear,  and  not 
have  left  you,  if  I  had  not  been  tied  at  home  my- 
self." 

"  So  I  thought ;  and  that  made  it  seem  so  very 
strange.  But,  oh !  don't  you  think,"  said  Ellen, 
her  face  suddenly  brightening, — "  don't  you  think 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  up  to  see  me  last  night? 
Wasn't  it  good  of  him  ?  He  even  sat  down  and 
read  to  me ;  only  think  of  that.  And  isn't  he 
kind  ?  He  asked  if  I  would  like  a  rocking-chair  ; 
and  of  course  I  said  yes,  for  these  other  chairs  are 
dreadful,  they  break  my  back  ;  and  there  wasn't 
such  a  thing  as  a  rocking-chair  in  Aunt  Fortune's 
house,  she  hates  'em,  she  says ;  and  this  morning, 


350  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

the  first  thing  I  knew,  in  walked  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
with  this  nice  rocking-chair.  Just  get  up  and  see 
how  nice  it  is  ; — you  see  the  back  is  cushioned,  and 
the  elbows,  as  well  as  the  seat ; — it's  queer-looking, 
ain't  it  ?  but  it's  very  comfortable.  Wasn't  it  good 
of  him  ? " 

"  It  was  very  kind,  I  think.  But  do  you  know, 
Ellen,  I  am  going  to  have  a  quarrel  with  you  ?  " 

"  What  about  ?  "  said  Ellen.  "  I  don't  believe 
it's  anything  very  bad,  for  you  look  pretty  good- 
humored,  considering." 

"  Nothing  very  bad,"  said  Alice,  "  but  still  enough 
to  quarrel  about.  You  have  twice  said  '  ain't '  since 
I  have  been  here." 

"Oh,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  is  that  all?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Alice,  "  and  my  English  ears  don't 
like  it  at  all." 

"  Then,  they  sha'n't  hear  it,"  said  Ellen,  kissing 
her.  "  I  don't  know  what  makes  me  say  it ;  I 
never  used  to.  But  I've  got  more  to  tell  you  ;  I've 
had  more  visitors.  Who  do  you  think  came  to  see 
me  ? — you'd  never  guess — Nancy  Vawse  !  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  came  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  when  I 
was  almost  worried  to  death  with  her.  Only  think 
of  her  coming  up  here  !  unknown  to  everybody. 
And  she  stayed  an  age,  and  how  she  did  go  on. 
She  cracked  nuts  on  the  hearth  ; — she  got  every 
stitch  of  my  clothes  out  of  my  trunk  and  scattered 
them  over  the  floor ; — she  tried  to  make  me  drink 
gruel  till  between  us  we  spilled  a  great  parcel  on 
the  bed ;  and  she  had  begun  to  tickle  me  when  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  came.  Oh,  wasn't  I  glad  to  see  him  ! 
And  when  Aunt  Fortune  came  up  and  saw  it  all 
she  was  as  angry  as  she  could  be  ;  and  she  scolded 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  351 

and  scolded,  till  at  last  I  told  her  it  was  none  of 
my  doings, — I  couldn't  help  it  at  all, — and  she 
needn't  talk  so  to  me  about  it ;  and  then  she  said 
it  was  my  fault  the  whole  of  it !  that  if  I  hadn't 
scraped  acquaintance  with  Nancy  when  she  had 
forbidden  me,  all  this  would  never  have  happened." 

"  There  is  some  truth  in  that,  isn't  there,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so  ;  but  I  think  it  might  all  have  hap- 
pened whether  or  no ;  and  at  any  rate  it  is  a  little  hard 
to  talk  so  to  me  about  it  now  when  it's  all  over  and 
can't  be  helped.  Oh,  I  have  been  so  tired  to-day, 
Miss  Alice  ! — Aunt  Fortune  has  been  in  such  a 
bad  humor." 

"  What  put  her  in  a  bad  humor  ?  " 

"  Why,  all  this  about  Nancy  in  the  first  place  ; 
and  then  I  know  she  didn't  l'ke  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
bringing  the  rocking-chair  for  me  ;  she  couldn't  say 
much,  but  I  could  see  by  her  face.  And  then, 
Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  coming — I  don't  think  she  liked 
that.  Oh,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  came  to  see  me  this 
morning  and  brought  me  a  custard.  How  many 
people  are  kind  to  me  ! — everywhere  I  go." 

"  I  hope,  dear  Ellen,  you  don't  forget  whose 
kindness  sends  them  all." 

"  I  don't,  Miss  Alice  ;  I  always  think  of  that  now  ; 
and  it  seems  you  can't  think  how  pleasant  to  me 
sometimes." 

"  Then  I  hope  you  can  bear  unkindness  from  one 
poor  woman, — who  after  all  isn't  as  happy  as  you 
are, — without  feeling  any  ill-will  towards  her  in 
return." 

"  I  don't  think  I  feel  ill-will  towards  her,"  said 
Ellen  ;  "  I  always  try  as  hard  as  1  can  not  to ;  but 
I  can't  like  her,  Miss  Alice  ;  and  I  do  get  out  of 


352  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

patience.  It's  very  easy  to  put  me  out  of  patience, 
I  think  ;  it  takes  almost  nothing  sometimes." 

"  But  remember,  '  charity  suifereth  long  and  is 
kind.'  " 

"And  I  try  all  the  while,  dear  Miss  Alice,  to 
keep  down  my  bad  feelings,"  said  Ellen,  her  eyes 
watering  as  she  spoke  ;  "  I  try  and  pray  to  get  rid 
of  them,  and  I  hope  I  shall  by  and  by ;  I  believe  I 
am  very  bad." 

Alice  drew  her  closer. 

"  I  have  felt  very  sad  part  of  to-day,"  said  Ellen 
presently  ;  "  Aunt  Fortune,  and  my  being  so  lonely, 
and  my  poor  letter,  altogether  ; — but  part  of  the 
time  I  felt  a  great  deal  better.  I  was  learning  that 
lovely  hymn, — do  you  know  it,  Miss  Alice  ? — '  Poor, 
weak,  and  worthless  though  I  am  !  ' " 

Alice  went  on  : — 

1  I  have  a  rich,  almighty  Friend, 
Jesus  the  Saviour  is  His  name, 
He  freely  loves,  and  without  end.' 

"  Oh,  dear  Ellen,  whoever  can  say  that  has  nc 
right  to  be  unhappy.  No  matter  what  happens,  we 
have  enough  to  be  glad  of." 

"  And  then  I  was  thinking  of  those  words  in  the 
Psalms, — '  Blessed  is  the  man  ' — stop,  I'll  find  it; 
I  don't  know  exactly  how  it  goes  ; — '  Blessed  is  he 
whose  transgression  is  forgiven ;  whose  sin  is 
covered.' " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  "said  Alice.  "  It  is  a  shame 
that  any  trifles  should  worry  much  those  whose 
sins  are  forgiven  them,  and  who  are  the  children 
of  the  great  King.  Poor  Miss  Fortune  never  knew 
the  sweetness  of  those  words.  We  ought  to  be 
sorry  for  her  and  pray  for   her,  Ellen  ;  and  never 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  353 

never,  even  in  thought,  return  evil  for  evil.  It  is 
not  like  Christ  to  do  so." 

"  I  will  not,  I  will  not,  if  I  can  help  it,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  You  can  help  it ;  but  there  is  only  one  way.. 
Now,  Ellen  dear,  I  have  three  pieces  of  news  for 
you  that  I  think  you  will  like.  One  concerns  you, 
another  myself,  and  the  third  concerns  both  you 
and  myself.     Which  will  you  have  first  ? " 

"  Three  pieces  of  good  news  !  "  said  Ellen,  with 
opening  eyes  ; — "  I  think  I'll  have  my  part  first." 

Directing  Ellen's  eyes  to  her  pocket,  Alice  slowly 
made  the  corner  of  the  letter  show  itself.  Ellen's 
color  came  and  went  quickly  as  it  was  drawn  forth  ; 
but  when  it  was  fairly  out  and  she  knew  it  again, 
she  flung  herself  upon  it  with  a  desperate  eagerness 
Alice  had  not  looked  for  ;  she  was  startled  at  the 
half  frantic  way  in  which  the  child  clasped  and 
kissed  it,  weeping  bitterly  at  the  same  time.  Her 
transport  was  almost  hysterical.  She  had  opened 
the  letter,  but  she  was  not  able  to  read  a  word ; 
and  quitting  Alice's  arms  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  bed,  sobbing  in  a  mixture  of  joy  and  sorrow 
that  seemed  to  take  away  her  reason.  Alice  looked 
on  surprised  a  moment,  but  only  a  moment,  and 
turned  away. 

When  Ellen  was  able  to  begin  her  letter  the 
reading  of  it  served  to  throw  her  back  into  fresh 
fits  of  tears.  Many  a  word  of  Mrs.  Montgomery's 
went  so  to  her  little  daughter's  heart  that  its 
very  inmost  cords  of  love  and  tenderness  were 
wrung.  It  is  true  the  letter  was  short  and  very 
simple  ;  but  it  came  from  her  mother's  heart  ;  it 
was  written  by  her  mother's  hand  ;  and  the  very  old 
23 


354  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

remembered  handwriting  had  mighty  power  to  move 
her.  She  was  so  wrapped  up  in  her  own  feelings 
that  through  it  all  she  never  noticed  that  Alice  was 
not  near  her,  that  Alice  did  not  speak  to  comfort 
her.  When  the  letter  had  been  read  time  after  time 
and  wept  over  again  and  again,  and  Ellen  at  last 
was  folding  it  up  for  the  present,  she  bethought 
herself  of  her  friend  and  turned  to  look  after  her. 
Alice  was  sitting  by  the  window,  her  face  hidden 
in  her  hands ;  and  as  Ellen  drew  near  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  her  tears  were  flowing  and  her 
breast  heaving.  Ellen  came  quite  close  and  softly 
laid  her  hand  on  Alice's  shoulder.  But  it  drew  no 
attention. 

"  Miss  Alice,"  said  Ellen,  almost  fearfully, — 
u  dear  Miss  Alice," — and  her  own  eyes  filled  fast 
again,  "  what  is  the  matter  ? — won't  you  tell  me  ? — 
Oh,  don't  do  so  ! — please  don't !  " 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Alice,  lifting  her  head,  "  I  am 
sorry  I  have  troubled  you,  dear ;  I  am  sorry  I  could 
not  help  it." 

She  kissed  Ellen,  who  stood  anxious  and  sorrow- 
ful by  her  side,  and  brushed  away  her  tears.  But 
Ellen  saw  she  had  been  shedding  a  great  many. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  Miss  Alice  ? — what 
has  happened  to  trouble  you  ? — won't  you  tell  me  ?  " 
— Ellen  was  almost  crying  herself. 

Alice  came  back  to  the  rocking-chair,  and  took 
Ellen  in  her  arms  again  ;  but  she  did  not  answer 
her.  Leaning  her  face  against  Ellen's  forehead, 
she  remained  silent.  Ellen  ventured  to  ask  no  more 
questions  ;  but  lifting  her  hand  once  or  twice  caress- 
ingly to  Alice's  face,  she  was  distressed  to  find  her 
cheek  wet  still.     Alice  spoke  at  last. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  355 

"  It  isn't  fair  not  to  tell  you  what  is  the  matter, 
dear  Ellen,  since  I  have  let  you  see  me  sorrowing. 
It  is  nothing  new,  nor  anything  I  would  have  other- 
wise if  I  could.  It  is  only  that  I  have  had  a  mother 
once,  and  have  lost  her ; — and  you  brought  back 
the  old  time  so  strongly  that  I  could  not  command 
myself." 

Ellen  felt  a  hot  tear  drop  upon  her  forehead,  and 
again  ventured  to  speak  her  sympathy  only  by 
silently  stroking  Alice's  cheeks. 

"  It  is  all  past  now,"  said  Alice  ;  "  it  is  all  well. 
I  would  not  have  her  back  again.  I  shall  goto  her 
I  hope  by  and-by." 

"  Oh,  no !  you  must  stay  with  me,"  said  Ellen, 
clasping  both  arms  round  her. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  they  re- 
mained locked  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  Ellen  dear,"  said  Alice  at  length,  "we  are  both 
motherless,  for  the  present  at  least, — both  of  us 
almost  alone ;  I  think  God  has  brought  us  together 
to  be  a  comfort  to  each  other.  We  will  be  sisters 
while  He  permits  us  to  be  so*.  Don't  call  me  Miss 
Alice  any  more.  You  shall  be  my  little  sister  and 
I  will  be  your  elder  sister,  and  my  home  shall  be 
your  home  as  well." 

Ellen's  arms  were  drawn  very  close  round  her 
companion  at  this,  but  she  said  nothing,  and  her 
face  was  hid  in  Alice's  bosom.  There  was  another 
very  long  pause.  Then  Alice  spoke  in  a  livelier 
tone. 

"  Come,  Ellen  !  look  up  !  you  and  I  have  for- 
gotten ourselves  ;  it  isn't  good  for  sick  people  to 
get  down  in  the  dumps.  Look  up  and  let  me  see 
these  pale  cheeks.  Don't  you  want  something  to 
eat?" 


356  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  faintly. 

*'  What  would  you  say  to  a  cup  of  chicken 
broth  ? "  , 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  it  very  much  !  "  said  Ellen, 
with  new  energy. 

"  Margery  made  me  some  particularly  nice,  as 
she  always  does  ;  and  I  took  it  into  my  head  a 
little  might  not  come  amiss  to  you  ;  so  I  resolved 
to  stand  the  chance  of  Sharp's  jolting  it  all  over 
me,  and  I  rode  down  with  a  little  pail  of  it  on  my 
arm.  Let  me  rake  open  these  coals  and  you  shall 
have  some  directly." 

"  And  did  you  come  without  being  spattered  ?  " 
said  Ellen. 

"  Not  a  drop.  Is  this  what  you  use  to  warm 
things  in?  Never  mind,  it  has  had  gruel  in  it;  I'll 
set  the  tin  pail  on  the  fire  ;  it  won't  hurt  it." 

"  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Ellen,  "  for 
do  you  know  I  have  got  quite  tired  of  gruel,  and 
panada  I  can't  bear." 

"  Then  I  am  very  glad  I  brought  it." 

While  it  was  warming,  Alice  washed  Ellen's  gruel 
cup  and  spoon  ;  and  presently  she  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  Ellen  eating  the  broth  with  that 
keen  enjoyment  none  know  but  those  that  have 
been  sick  and  are  getting  well.  She  smiled  to  see 
her  gaining  strength  almost  in  the  very  act  of  swal- 
lowing. 

"  Ellen,"  said  she  presently,  "  I  have  been  con- 
sidering your  dressing-table.  It  looks  rather 
doleful.  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  some  dimity, 
and  when  you  come  to  see  me  you  shall  make  a 
cover  for  it  that  will  reach  down  to  the  floor  and 
hide  those  long  legs." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  357 

7  That  wouldn't  do  at  all,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  Aunt 
Fortune  would  go  off  into  all  sorts  of  fits." 

"What  about?  " 

"  Why,  the  washing,  Miss  Alice — to  have  such  a 
great  thing  to  wash  every  now  and  then.  You  can't 
think  what  a  fuss  she  makes  if  I  have  more  than 
just  so  many  white  clothes  in  the  wash  every 
week." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  said  Alice.  "  Suppose  you 
bring  it  up  to  me — it  wouldn't  be  often— and  I'll  have 
it  washed  for  you, — if  you  care  enough  about  it  to 
take  the  trouble." 

"  Oh,  indeed  I  do  ! "  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  should  like 
it  very  much  ;  and  I'll  get  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to — no,  I 
can't,  Aunt  Fortune  won't  let  me ;  I  was  going  to 
say  I  would  get  him  to  saw  off  the  legs  and  make 
it  lower  for  me,  and  then  my  dressing-box  would 
stand  so  nicely  on  the  top.  Maybe  I  can  yet.  Oh, 
I  never  showed  you  my  boxes  and  things." 

Ellen  brought  them  all  out  and  displayed  their 
beauties.  In  the  course  of  going  over  the  writing- 
desk  she  came  to  the  secret  drawer  and  a  little 
money  in  it. 

"  Oh,  that  puts  me  in  mind  !  "  she  said.  "  Miss 
Alice,  this  money  is  to  be  spent  for  some  poor  child ; 
now  I've  been  thinking  Nancy  has  behaved  so  to 
me  I  should  like  to  give  her  something  to  show  her 
that  I  don't  feel  unkindly  about  it — what  do  you 
think  would  be  a  good  thing  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Ellen — I '11  take  the  matter  into 
consideration." 

"  Do  you  think  a  Bible  would  do  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  that  would  do  as  well  as  anything  ;— 
I'll  think  about  it." 


358  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  should  like  to  do  it  very  much,"  said  Ellen, 
H  for  she  has  vexed  me  wonderfully." 

"  Well,  Ellen,  would  you  like  to  hear  my  other 
pieces  of  news  ?  or  have  you  no  curiosity  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  had  for- 
gotten it  entirely ;  what  is  it,  Miss  Alice  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  told  you  one  concerns  only  myself, 
but  it  is  great  news  to  me.  I  learnt  this  morning 
that  my  brother  will  come  to  spend  the  holidays 
with  me.    It  is  many  months  since  I  have  seen  him." 

"  Does  he  live  far  away  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes, — he  has  gone  far  away  to  pursue  his 
studies,  and  cannot  come  home  often.  The  other 
piece  of  news  is  that  I  intend,  if  you  have  no  ob- 
jection, to  ask  Miss  Fortune's  leave  to  have  you 
spend  the  holidays  with  me  too." 

"  Oh,  delightful !  "  said  Ellen,  starting  up  and 
clapping  her  hands  and  then  throwing  them  round 
her  adopted  sister's  neck  ; — "  dear  Alice,  how  good 
you  are !  " 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  may  reckon  upon  your  con- 
sent," said  Alice,  "  and  I'll  speak  to  Miss  Fortune 
without  delay." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  dear  Miss  Alice  ; — how  glad  I 
am  !  I  shall  be  happy  all  the  time  from  now  till 
then  thinking  of  it.     You  aren't  going  ?  " 

"  I  must." 

"  Ah,  don't  go  yet !  Sit  down  again  ;  you  know 
you're  my  sister, — don't  you  want  to  read  mamma's 
letter  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Ellen,  I  should  like  it  very  much." 

She  sat  down,  and  Ellen  gave  her  the  letter,  and 
stood  by  while  she  read  it,  watching  her  with  glisten- 
ing eyes ;  and  though  as  she   saw   Alice's  fill,  her 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  359 

own  overflowed  again,  she  hung  over  her  still  to 
the  last ;  going  over  every  line  this  time  with  a  new 
pleasure. 

"  New  York,  Saturday,  Nov.  22,  18 — . 

"  My  Dear  Ellen, 

"  I  meant  to  have  written  to  you  before,  but  have 
been  scarcely  able  to  do  so.  I  did  make  one  or  two 
efforts  which  came  to  nothing;  I  was  obliged  to 
give  it  up  before  finishing  anything  that  could  be 
called  a  letter.  To-day  I  feel  much  stronger  than 
I  have  at  any  time  since  your  departure. 

"  I  have  missed  you,  my  dear  child,  very  much. 
There  is  not  an  hour  in  the  day,  nor  a  half  hour, 
that  the  want  of  you  does  not  come  home  to  my 
heart ;  and  I  think  I  have  missed  you  in  my  very 
dreams.  This  separation  is  a  very  hard  thing  to 
bear.  But  the  Hand  that  has  arranged  it  does 
nothing  amiss  ;  we  must  trust  Him,  my  daughter, 
that  all  will  be  well.  I  feel  it  is  well ;  though  some- 
times the  thought  of  your  dear  little  face  is  almost 
too  much  for  me.  I  will  thank  God  I  have  had 
such  a  blessing  so  long,  and  I  now  commit  my 
treasure  to  Him.  It  is  an  unspeakable  comfort  to 
me  to  do  this,  for  nothing  committed  to  His  care 
is  ever  forgotten  or  neglected.  Oh,  my  daughter, 
never  forget  to  pray  ;'  never  slight  it.  It  is  almost 
my  only  refuge,  now  I  have  lost  you,  and  it  bears 
me  up.  How  often — how  often, — through  the  years 
gone  by, — when  heart-sick  and  faint, — I  have  fallen 
on  my  knees,  and  presently  there  have  been  as  it 
were  drops  of  cool  water  sprinkled  upon  my  spirit's 
fever.  Learn  to  love  prayer,  dear  Ellen,  and  then 
you  will  have  a  cure  for  all  the  sorrows  of  life. 
And  keep  this  letter,  that  if  ever  you  are  like  to 


360  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

forget   it,   your  mother's   testimony   may   come   to 
mind  again. 

"  My  tea,  that  used  to  be  so  pleasant,  has  become 
a  sad  meal  to  me.  I  drink  it  mechanically  and  set 
down  my  cup,  remembering  only  that  the  dear  little 
hand  which  used  to  minister  to  my  wants  is  near 
me  no  more.  My  child — my  child  !— words  are 
poor  to  express  the  heart's  yearnings, — my  spirit  is 
near  you  all  the  time. 

"  Your  old  gentleman  has  paid  me  several  visits. 
The  day  after  you  went  came  some  beautiful  pig- 
eons. I  sent  word  back  that  you  were  no  longer 
here  to  enjoy  his  gifts,  and  the  next  day  he  came 
to  see  me.  He  has  shown  himself  very  kind.  And 
all  this,  dear  Ellen,  had  for  its  immediate  cause 
your  proper  and  ladylike  behavior  in  the  store. 
That  thought  has  been  sweeter  to  me  than  all  the 
old  gentleman's  birds  and  fruit.  I  am  sorry  to  in- 
form you  that  though  I  have  seen  him  so  many 
times  I  am  still  perfectly  ignorant  of  his  name. 

"  We  set  sail  Monday  in  the  •  England.'  Your 
father  has  secured  a  nice  state-room  for  me,  and  I 
have  a  store  of  comforts  laid  up  for  the  voyage.  So 
next  week  you  may  imagine  me  out  on  the  broad 
ocean,  with  nothing  but  sky  and  clouds  and  water 
to  be  seen  around  me,  and  probably  much  too  sick 
to  look  at  those.  Never  mind  that ;  the  sickness  is 
good  for  me. 

"  I  will  write  you  as  soon  as  I  can  again,  and 
send  by  the  first  conveyance. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  baby — my  precious  child- 
farewell.     May  the  blessing  of  God  be  with  you ! 
"  Your  affectionate  mother, 

"  E.  Montgomery/' 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD,  36 1 

"You  ought  to  be  a  good  child,  Ellen,"  said 
Alice,  as  she  dashed  away  some  tears.  "  Thank 
you  for  letting  me  see  this ,  it  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  me." 

"And  now,"  said  Ellen,  "  you  feel  as  if  you 
knew  mamma  a  little." 

"  Enough  to  honor  and  respect  her  very  much. 
Now  good-bye,  my  love  ;  I  must  be  at  home  before 
it  is  late.  I  will  see  you  again  before  Christmas 
comes." 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall, 
And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail, 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall, 
And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail. 

Shakspbarb. 

To  Ellen's  sorrow  she  was  pronounced  next  morn- 
ing well  enough  to  come  downstairs  ;  her  aunt  aver- 
ring that  "  it  was  no  use  to  keep  a  fire  burning  up 
there  for  nothing."  She  must  get  up  and  dress  in 
the  cold  again  ;  and  winter  had  fairly  set  in  now  ; 
the  19th  of  December  rose  clear  and  keen.  Ellen 
looked  sighingly  at  the  heap  of  ashes  and  the  dead 
brands  in  the  fireplace  where  the  bright  little  fire 
had  blazed  so  cheerfully  the  evening  before.  But 
regrets  did  not  help  the  matter ;  and,  shivering,  she 
began  to  dress  as  fast  as  she  could.  Since  her  ill- 
ness a  basin  and  pitcher  had  been  brought  into  her 
room,  so  the  washing  at  the  spout  was  ended  for 
the  present ;  and  though  the  basin  had  no  place  but 
a  chair,  and  the  pitcher  must  stand  on  the  floor, 
Ellen  thought  herself  too  happy.  But  how  cold  it 
was  !  The  wind  swept  past  her  windows  giving 
wintry  shakes  to  the  panes  of  glass,  and  through 
many  an  opening  in  the  wooden  frame-work  of  the 


362  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

house  it  came  in  and  saluted  Ellen's  bare  arms  and 
neck.  She  hurried  to  finish  her  dressing,  and  wrap- 
ping her  double-gown  over  all,  went  down  to  the 
kitchen.  It  was  another  climate  there.  A  great 
fire  was  burning  that  it  quite  cheered  Ellen's  heart 
to  look  at ;  and  the  air  seemed  to  be  full  of  coffee 
and  buckwheat  cakes  :  Ellen  almost  thought  she 
should  get  enough  breakfast  by  the  sense  of  smell. 

"  Ah  !  here  you  are,"  said  Miss  Fortune.  "  What 
have  you  got  that  thing  on  for  ?  " 

"  It  was  so  cold  upstairs,"  said  Ellen,  drawing 
up  her  shoulders.  The  warmth  had  not  got  inside 
of  liar  wrapper  yet. 

"  Well,  'tain't  cold  here  ;  you'd  better  pull  it  off 
right  away.  I've  no  notion  of  people's  making 
themselves  tender.  You'll  be  warm  enough 
directly.     Breakfast  '11  warm  you." 

Ellen  felt  almost  inclined  to  quarrel  with  the 
breakfast  that  was  offered  in  exchange  for  her 
comfortable  wrapper ;  she  pulled  it  off,  however, 
and  sat  down  without  saying  anything.  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  put  some  cakes  on  her  plate. 

"  If  breakfast's  a-going  to  warm  you,"  said  he, 
"  make  haste  and  get  something  down ;  or  drink 
a  cup  of  coffee  ;  you're  as  blue  as  skim  milk." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  said  Ellen,  laughing  ;  "  I  feel  blue  ; 
but  I  can't  eat  such  a  pile  of  cakes  as  that,  Mr. 
Van  Brunt." 

As  a  general  thing  the  meals  at  Miss  Fortune's 
were  silent  solemnities  :  an  occasional  consultation, 
or  a  few  questions  and  remarks  about  farm  affairs, 
being  all  that  ever  passed.  The  breakfast  this 
morning  was  a  singular  exception  to  the  common 
rule. 


THE  WIDE,  WIL>E  WORLD.  363 

"  I  am  in  a  regular  quandary,"  said  the  mistress 
of  the  house  when  the  meal  was  about  half  over. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  up  for  an  instant,  and 
asked  "  what  about  ?  " 

"  Why,  how  I  am  ever  going  to  do  to  get  those 
apples  and  sausage-meat  done.  If  I  go  to  doing 
'em  myself  I  shall  about  get  through  by  spring." 

"  Why  don't  you  make  a  bee  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. 

"  Ain't  enough  of  either  on  'em  to  make  it  worth 
while.  I  ain't  a-going  to  have  all  the  bother  of  a 
bee  without  something  to  show  for't." 

"  Turn  'em  both  into  one,"  suggested  her  coun- 
selor, going  on  with  his  breakfast. 

"  Both  ? " 

"  Yes — let  'em  pare  apples  in  one  room  and  cut 
pork  in  t'other." 

"  But  I  wonder  who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing 
before,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  pausing  with  her  cup 
of  coffee  half  way  to  her  lips.  Presently,  however, 
it  was  carried  to  her  mouth,  drunk  off,  and  set 
down  with  an  air  of  determination. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  she,  "if  it  never  was  heard 
of.  I'll  do  it  for  once,  anyhow.  I'm  not  one  of 
them  to  care  what  folks  say.  I'll  have  it  so  !  But 
I  wpn't  have  'em  to  tea,  mind  you ;  I'd  rather  throw 
apples  and  all  into  the  fire  at  once.  I'll  have  but  one 
plague  of  setting  tables,  and  that.  I  won't  have 
'em  to  tea.  I'll  make  it  up  to  'em  in  the  supper 
though." 

"  I'll  take  care  to  publish  that,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. 

"  Don't  you  go  and  do  such  a  thing,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,    earnestly.     "  I    shall    have    the    whole 


364  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

country  on  my  hands.  I  won't  have  but  just  as 
many  on  'em  as  '11  do  what  I  want  done  ;  that'll 
be  as  much  as  I  can  stand  under.  Don't  you 
whisper  a  word  of  it  to  a  living  creature.  I'll  go 
round  and  ask  'em  myself  to  come  Monday  even- 
ing." 

"  Monday  evening — then  I  suppose  you'd  like 
to  have  up  the  sleigh  this  afternoon.  Who's  a- 
coming  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  ha'n't  asked  'em  yet." 

"  They'll  every  soul  come  that's  asked,  that  you 
may  depend  ;  there  ain't  one  on  'em  that  would 
miss  of  it  for  a  dollar." 

Miss  Fortune  bridled  a  little  at  the  implied  trib- 
ute to  her  housekeeping. 

"  If  I  was  some  folks  I  wouldn't  let  people  know 
I  was  in  such  a  mighty  hurry  to  get  a  good  supper," 
she  observed,  rather  scornfully. 

"  Humph  ! "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  "  I  think  a 
good  supper  ain't  a  bad  thing;  and  I've  no  objec- 
tion to  folks  knowing  it." 

"  Pshaw  !  I  didn't  mean  you"  said  Miss  Fortune ; 
"  I  was  thinking  of  those  Lawsons,  and  other  folks." 

"  If  you're  a-going  to  ask  them  to  your  bee  you 
ain't  of  my  mind.'' 

"  Well,  I  am  though,"  replied  Miss  Fortune ; 
"  there's  a  good  many  hands  of  'em  ;  they  can  turn 
on:  a  good  lot  of  work  in  an  evening ;  and  they 
always  take  care  to  get  me  to  their bees.  I  may 
as  well  get  something  out  of  them  in  return  if  I 
can." 

"  They'll  reckon  on  getting  as  much  as  they  can 
out  o'  you,  if  they  come,  there's  no  sort  of  doubt  in 
my  mind.     It's  my  belief  Mirny  Lawson  will  kiU 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


36$ 


herself  some  of  these  days  upon  green  corn.  She 
was  at  home  to  tea  one  day  last  summer,  and  I 
declare  I  thought " 

What  Mr.  Van  Brunt  thought  he  left  his  hearers 
to  guess. 

"  Well,  let  them  kill  themselves  if  they  like,"  said 
Miss  Fortune ;  "  I  am  sure  .T  am  willing ;  there'll 
be  enough  ;  I  ain't  a-going  to  mince  matters  when 
once  I  begin.  Now  let  me  see.  There's  five  of 
the  Lawsons  to  begin  with — I  suppose  they'll  alt 
come  ; — Bill  Huff,  and  Jany,  that's  seven " 

"  That  Bill  Huff  is  as  good-natured  a  fellow  as 
ever  broke  ground,"  remarked  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 
"  Ain't  better  people  in  the  town  than  them  Huffs 
are." 

"They're  well  enough,"  said  Miss  Fortune. 
"  Seven — and  the  Hitchcocks,  there's  three  of  them, 
that'll  make  ten " 

"  Dennison's  ain't  far  from  there,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt.  "  Dan  Dennison's  a  fine  hand  at  a'most 
anything,  in  doors  or  out." 

"  That's  more  than  you  can  say  for  his  sister. 
Cilly  Dennison  gives  herself  so  many  airs  it's  al- 
together too  much  for  plain  country  folks.  I  should 
like  to  know  what  she  thinks  herself.  It's  a'most 
too  much  for  my  stomach  to  see  her  flourishing  that 
watch  and  chain." 

"  What's  the  use  of  troubling  yourself  about  other 
people's  notions  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  "  If  folks 
want  to  take  the  road  let  'em  have  it.  That's  my 
way.  I  am  satisfied,  provided  they  don't  run  me 
over." 

"  'Tain't  my  way,  then,  I'd  have  you  to  know," 
said  Miss   Fortune  ;  "  I    despise  it !     And  'tain't 


366  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

your  way  neither,  Van  Brunt ;  what  did  you  give 
Tom  Larkens  a  cow-hiding  for  ?  " 

"  'Cause  he  deserved  it,  if  ever  a  man  did,"  said 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  quite  rousing  up  ; — he  was  treating 
that  little  brother  of  his'n  in  a  way  a  boy  shouldn't 
be  treated,  and  I  am  glad  I  did  it.  I  gave  him 
notice  to  quit  before  I  laid  a  finger  on  him.  He 
warn't  doing  nothing  to  ?ne" 

M  And  how  much  good  do  you  suppose  it  did  ? " 
said  Miss  Fortune,  rather  scornfully. 

M  It  did  just  the  good  I  wanted  to  do.  He  has 
seen  fit  to  let  little  Billy  alone  ever  since." 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  let  the  Dennisons  come,"  said 
Miss  Fortune ;  "  that  makes  twelve,  and  you  and 
your  mother  are  fourteen.  I  suppose  that  man 
Marshchalk  will  come  dangling  along  after  the 
Hitchcocks." 

"  To  be  sure  he  will ;  and  his  aunt,  Miss  Janet, 
will  come  with  him  most  likely.'' 

"  Wfill — there's  no  help  for  it,"  said  Miss  Fort- 
une.    "  That  makes  sixteen.'* 

"  Will  you  ask  Miss  Alice  ?  " 

"  Not  I  !  she's  another  of  your  proud  set.  I  don't 
want  to  see  anybody  that  thinks  she's  going  to  do 
me  a  great  favor  by  coming." 

Ellen's  lips  opened,  but  wisdom  came  in  time  to 
stop  the  words  that  were  on  her  tongue.  It  did 
not,  however,  prevent  the  quick  little  turn  of  her 
head  which  showed  what  she  thought,  and  the 
pale  cheeks  were  for  a  moment  bright  enough. 

"  She  is.  and  I  don't  care  who  hears  it,"  repeated 
Miss  Fortune.  "  I  suppose  she'd  look  as  sober  as 
a  judge,  too,  if  she  saw  cider  on  the  table  ;  they 
say  she  won't  tcr.ch  a  drop  svsr  and  thinks  it's 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  367 

wicked  ;  and  if  that  ain't  setting  oneself  up  for 
better  than  other  folks  I  don't  know  what  is." 

"  I  saw  her  paring  apples  at  the  Huffs',  though, 
said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  "  and  as  pleasant  as  anybody  ; 
but  she  didn't  stay  to  supper." 

"  I'd  ask  Mrs.  Vawse  if  I  could  get  word  to  her," 
said  Miss  Fortune, — "  but  I  can  never  travel  up 
that  mountain.  If  I  get  a  sight  of  Nancy  I'll  tell 
her." 

"  There  she  is,  then,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  look- 
ing towards  the  little  window  that  opened  into  the 
shed.  And  there,  indeed,  was  the  face  of  Miss 
Nancy  pressed  flat  against  the  glass,  peering  into 
the  room.     Miss  Fortune  beckoned  to  her. 

"  That  is  the  most  impudent,  shameless,  out- 
rageous piece  of What  were  you  doing  at  the 

window  ? "  said  she,  as  Nancy  came  in. 

"  Looking  at  you,  Miss  Fortune,"  said  Nancy, 
coolly.  "  What  have  you  been  talking  about  this 
great  while  ?  If  there  had  only  been  a  pane  of 
glass  broken,  I  needn't  have  asked." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  and 
listen  to  me." 

"  I'll  listen,  ma'am,"  said  Nancy,  "but  it's  of  no 
use  to  hold  my  tongue.  I  do  try  sometimes,  but  I 
never  could  keep  it  long." 

"  Have  you  done  ? " 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Nancy,  shaking  her 
head  ;  "  it's  just  as  it  happens." 

"  You  tell  your  granny  I  am  going  to  have  a  bee 
here  next  Monday  evening,  and  ask  her  if  she'll 
come  to  it." 

Nancy  nodded.  "  If  it's  good  weather,"  she 
added  conditionally. 


368  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Stop,  Nancy  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  here  !  " — ■ 
for  Nancy  was  shutting  the  door  behind  her. — "  As 
sure  as  you  come  here  Monday  night  without  your 
grandma,  you'll  go  out  of  the  house  quicker  than 
you  come  in  ;  see  if  you  don't !  " 

With  another  gracious  nod  and  smile  Nancy  de- 
parted. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  rising,  "  I'll  dis- 
patch this  business  downstairs,  and  then  I'll  bring 
up  the  sleigh.     The  pickle's  ready,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  it  ain't,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  I  couldn't 
make  it  yesterday ;  but  it's  all  in  the  kettle,  and  I 
told  Sam  to  make  a  fire  downstairs,  so  you  can 
put  it  on  when  you  go  down.  The  kits  are  all 
ready,  and  the  salt  and  everything  else." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  went  down  the  stairs  that  led  to 
the  lower  kitchen ;  and  Miss  Fortune,  to  make  up 
for  lost  time,  set  about  her  morning's  work  with 
even  an  uncommon  measure  of  activity.  Ellen,  in 
consideration  of  her  being,  still  weak,  was  not  re- 
quired to  do  anything.  She  sat  and  looked  on, 
keeping  out  of  the  way  of  her  bustling  aunt  as  far 
as  it  was  possible  ;  but  Miss  Fortune's  gyrations 
were  of  that  character  that  no  one  could  tell  five 
minutes  beforehand  what  she  might  consider  "in 
the  way."  Ellen  wished  for  her  quiet  room  again. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt's  voice  sounded  downstairs  in  tones 
of  business ;  what  could  he  be  about  ?  it  must  be 
very  uncommon  business  that  kept  him  in  the  house. 
Ellen  grew  restless  with  the  desire  to  go  and  see, 
and  to  change  her  aunt's  company  for  his ;  and  no 
sooner  was  Miss  Fortune  fairly  shut  up  in  the  but- 
tery at  some  secret  work  than  Ellen  gently  opened 
the  door  at  the  head  of  the  lower  stairs  and  looked 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  369 

down.      Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  standing  at  the  bottom 
and  he  looked  up. 

"  May  I  come  down  there,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? " 
said  Ellen,  softly. 

"  Come  down  here  ?  to  be  sure  you  may  !  You 
may  always  come  straight  where  I  am  without  ask- 
ing any  questions." 

Ellen  went  down.  But  before  she  reached  the 
bottom  stair  she  stopped  with  almost  a  start,  and 
stood  fixed  with  such  a  horrified  face  that  neither  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  nor  Sam  Larkens,  who  was  there,  could 
help  laughing. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  said  the  former, — "  they're 
all  dead  enough,  Miss  Ellen ;  you  needn't  be 
scared." 

Three  enormous  hogs  which  had  been,  killed  the 
day  beiore  greeted  Ellen's  eyes.  They  lay  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  room,  with  each  a  cob  in  his 
moutli.  A  fourth  lay  stretched  upon  his  back  on 
the  kitchen  table,  which  was  drawn  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  floor.     Ellen  stood  fast  on  the  stair. 

"  Have  they  been  killed  !  "  was  her  first  as- 
tonished exclamation,  to  which  Sam  responded 
with  another  burst. 

"  Be  quiet,  Sam  Larkens,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 
"  Yes,  Miss  Ellen,  they've  been  killed  sure  enough." 

"  Are  these  the  same  pigs  I  used  to  see  you  feed- 
ing with  corn,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? " 

"  The  identical  same  ones,"  replied  that  gentle- 
man, as  laying  hold  of  the  head  of  the  one  on  the 
table  and  applying  his  long  sharp  knife  with  the 
other  hand,  he,  while  he  was  speaking,  severed  it 
neatly  and  quickly  from  the  trunk.  "  And  very  fine 
porkers  they  are  ;  I  ain't  ashamed  of  'em," 
2^ 


370  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  And  what's  going  to  be  done  with  them  now  ?  * 
said  Ellen. 

"  I  am  just  going  to  cut  them  up  and  lay  them 
down.  Bless  my  heart !  you  never  see  nothing  of 
the  kind  before,  did  you  ? " 

"No,"  said  Ellen.  "What  do  you  mean  by 
1  laying  them  down,'  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"Why,  laying  'em  down  in  salt  for  pork  and 
hams.  You  want  to  see  the  whole  operation,  don't 
you?  Well,  here's  a  seat  for  you.  You'd  better 
fetch  that  painted  coat  o'  yourn  and  wrap  round  you, 
for  it  ain't  quite  so  warm  here  as  upstairs ;  but  it's 
getting  warmer.  Sam,  just  you  shut  that  door  to, 
and  throw  on  another  log." 

Sam  built  up  as  large  a  fire  as  could  be  made 
under  a  very  large  kettle  that  hung  in  the  chimney. 
When  Ellen  came  down  in  her  wrapper  she  was 
established  close  in  the  chimney-corner ;  and  then 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  not  thinking  her  quite  safe  from 
the  keen  currents  of  air  that  would  find  their  way 
into  the  room,  dispatched  Sam  for  an  old  buffalo 
robe  that  lay  in  the  shed.  This  he  himself  with 
great  care  wrapped  round  her,  feet  and  chair 
and  all,  and  secured  it  in  various  pl?ces  with 
old  cords.  He  declared  then  she  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  an  Indian,  except  her  face ;  and  in  high 
good-humor  he  went  to  cutting  up  the  pork,  and 
Ellen  from  out  of  her  buffalo  robe  watched  him. 

It  was  beautifully  done.  Even  Ellen  could  see 
that,  although  she  could  not  have  known  if  it  had 
been  done  ill.  The  knife  guided  by  strength  and 
skill  seemed  to  go  with  the  greatest  ease  and  cer- 
tainty just  where  he  wished  it ;  the  hams  were 
beautifully    trimmed    out ;    the    pieces    fashioner* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  371 

clean ;  no  ragged  cutting ;  and  his  quick-going 
knife  disposed  of  carcass  after  carcass  with  admi- 
rable neatness  and  celerity.  Sam,  meanwhile,  ar- 
ranged the  pieces  in  different  parcels  at  his  direc- 
tion, and  minded  the  kettle,  in  which  a  great  boil- 
ing and  scumming  was  going  on.  Ellen  was  too 
much  amused  for  a  while  to  ask  any  questions. 
When  the  cutting  up  was  all  done,  the  hams  and 
shoulders  were  put  in  a  cask  by  themselves  and 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  began  to  pack  down  the  other 
pieces  in  the  kits,  stewing  them  with  an  abundance 
of  salt. 

"  What's  the  use  of  putting  all  that  salt  with  the 
pork,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  It  wouldn't  keep  good  without  that ;  it  would 
spoil  very  quick." 

"  Will  the  salt  make  it  keep  ? " 

"  All  the  year  round — as  sweet  as  a  nut." 

"  I  wonder  what  is  the  reason  of  that,"  said  Ellen. 
"  Will  salt  make  everything  keep  good  ?  " 

"  Everything  in  the  world — if  it  only  has  enough 
of  it,  and  is  kept  dry  and  cool." 

"  Are  you  going  to  do  the  hams  in  the  same 
way  ? " 

"  No ; — they're  to  go  in  that  pickle,  over  the 
fire." 

"  In  this  kettle  ? — what  is  in  it  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  You  must  ask  Miss  Fortune  about  that ; — sugar 
and  salt  and  saltpetre  and  molasses,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all." 

"  And  will  this  make  the  hams  so  different  from 
the  rest  of  the  pork  ?  " 

"  No ;  they've  got  to  be  smoked  after  they  have 
laid  in  that  for  a  while." 


372  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Smoked  !  "  said  Ellen  ;  "  how  ?  " 

"  Why,  ha'n't  you  been  in  the  smokehouse  ?  The 
hams  has  to  be  taken  out  of  the  pickle  and  hung 
up  there ;  and  then  we  make  a  little  fire  of  oak 
chips  and  keep  it  burning  night  and  day." 

"  And  how  long  must  they  stay  in  the  smoke  ? " 

"  Oh,  three  or  four  weeks  or  so." 

"  And  then  they  are  done  ?  " 

"  Then  they  are  done." 

"  How  very  curious  ! "  said  Ellen.  "  Then  it's 
the  smoke  that  gives  them  that  nice  taste  ?  I  never 
knew  smoke  was  good  for  anything  before." 

"  Ellen  !  "  said  the  voice  of  Miss  Fortune  from 
the  top  of  the  stairs, — "  come  right  up  here  this 
minute  !  you'll  catch  your  death  !  " 

Ellen's  countenance  fell. 

"  There's  no  sort  of  fear  of  that,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  quietly,  "  and  Miss  Ellen  is  fastened 
up  so  she  can't  get  loose  ;  and  I  can't  let  ( her  out 
just  now." 

The  upper  door  was  shut  again  pretty  sharply,  but 
that  was  the  only  audible  expression  of  opinion 
•with  which  Miss  Fortune  favored  them. 

"  I  guess  my  leather  curtains  keep  off  the  wind, 
don't  they  ? "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  Yes,  indeed  they  do,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  don't  feel 
a  breath ;  I  am  as  warm  as  a  toast, — too  warm 
almost.  How  nicely  you  have  fixed  me  up,  Mr. 
Van  Brunt." 

"  I  thought  that  'ere  old  buffalo  had  done  its 
work,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  never  say  anything  is 
good  for  nothing  again..  Have  you  found  out  where 
the  apples  are  yet  ? " 

M  No,"  said  Ellen. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  373 

"  Ha'n't  Miss  Fortune  showed  you  !  Well,  it's 
time  you'd  know.  Sam,  take  that  little  basket  and 
go  fill  it  at  the  bin  ;  I  guess  you  know  where  they 
be,  for  I  believe  you  put  'em  there." 

Sam  went  into  the  cellar,  and  presently  returned 
with  the  basket  nicely  filled.  He  handed  it  to 
Ellen. 

"  Are  all  these  for  me  ? "  she  said  in  surprise. 

"  Every  one  on  'em,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  But  I  don't  like  to,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  what  will 
Aunt  Fortune  say  ?" 

"  She  won't  say  a  word,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ; 
"  and  don't  you  say  a  word  neither,  but  whenever 
you  want  apples  just  go  to  the  bin  and  take  'em.  1 
give  you  leave.  It's  right  at  the  end  of  the  far  cellar, 
at  the  left  hand  corner  ;  there  are  the  bins  and  all 
sorts  of  apples  in  'em.  You've  got  a  pretty  variety 
there,  ha'n't  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  all  sorts,"  said  Ellen, — "  and  what  beauties  f 
and  I  love  apples  very  much, — red,  and  yellow, 
and  speckled,  and  green. — What  a  great  mon- 
ster ! " 

"That's  a  Swar  ;  that  ain't  as  good  as  most  of  the 
others  ; — those  are  Seek-no- furthers." 

"  Seek-no-further  !  "  said  Ellen ; — "  what  a  funny 
name.  It  ought  to  be  a  mighty  good  apple.  1 
shall  seek  further  at  any  rate.     What  is  this  ? " 

"  That's  as  good  an  apple  as  you've  got  in  the 
basket ;  that's  a  real  Orson  pippin  ;  a  very  fine 
kind.  I'll  fetch  you  some  up  from  home  some  day, 
though,  that  are  better  than  the  best  of  those." 

The  pork  was  all  packed ;  the  kettle  was  lifted 
off  the  fire  ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  wiping  his  hands 
from  the  salt. 


374  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  And  now,  I  suppose,  I  must  go,"  said  Ellen, 
with  a  little  sigh. 

"Why,  /must  go,"  said  he; — "so  I  suppose  I 
may  as  well  let  you  out  of  your  tent  first." 

'•  I  have  had  such  a  nice  time,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I 
had  got  so  tired  of  doing  nothing  upstairs.  I  am 
very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  But," 
said  she,  stopping  as  she  had  taken  up  her  basket 
to  go, — "  aren't  you  going  to  put  the  hams  in  the 
pickle  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  it  must  wait  to  get 
cold  first.  But  you'll  make  a  capital  farmer's  wife, 
there's  no  mistake." 

Ellen  blushed,  and  ran  upstairs  with  her  apples. 
To  bestow  them  safely  in  her  closet  was  her  first 
care ;  the  rest  of  the  morning  was  spent  in  increas- 
ing weariness  and  listlessness.  She  had  brought 
down  her  little  hymn-book  thinking  to  amuse  herself 
with  learning  a  hymn,  but  it  would  not  do ;  eyes  and 
head  both  refused  their  part  of  the  work  ;  and  when 
at  last  Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  in  to  a  late  dinner,  he 
found  Ellen  seated  flat  on  the  hearth  before  the 
fire,  her  right  arm  curled  round  upon  the  hard 
wooden  bottom  of  one  of  the  chairs,  and  her  head 
pillowed  upon  that,  fast  asleep. 

"  Bless  my  soul  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  "  what's 
become  of  that  'ere  rocking-cheer  ? " 

"  It's  upstairs  I  suppose.  You  can  go  fetch  it 
if  you've  a  mind  to,"  answered  Miss  Fortune,  dryly 
enough. 

He  did  so  immediately ;  and  Ellen  barely  waked 
up  to  feel  herself  lifted  from  the  floor  and  placed 
in  the  friendly  rocking-chair ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt  re- 
marking at  the  same  time  that  "  it  might  be  well 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  375 

enough  to  let  well  folks  lie  on  the  floor  and  sleep- 
on  cheers,  but  cushions  warn't  a  bit  too  soft  for  sick 
ones." 

Among  the  cushions  Ellen  went  to  sleep  again 
with  a  much  better  prospect  of  rest ;  and  either 
sleeping  or  dozing  passed  away  the  time  for  a  good 
while. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Oh,  that  I  were  an  Orange  tree, 

That  busy  plant ! 
Then  should  I  always  laden  be, 

And  never  want 
Some  fruit  for  Him  that  dresseth  me. 

G.  Herbert. 

She  was  thoroughly  roused  at  last  by  the  slam- 
ming of  the  house-door  after  her  aunt.  She  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  had  gone  forth  on  their  sleighing  expedi- 
tion, and  Ellen  waked  to  find  herself  quite  alone. 

She  could  not  long  have  doubted  that  her  aunt 
was  away,  even  if  she  had  not  caught  a  glimpse  of 
her  bonnet  going  out  of  the  shed  door, — the  still- 
ness was  so  uncommon.  No  such  quiet  could  be 
with  Miss  Fortune  anywhere  about  the  premises. 
The  old  grandmother  must  have  been  abed  and 
asleep  too,  for  a  cricket  under  the  hearth  and  the 
wood  fire  in  the  chimney  had  it  all  to  themselves, 
and  made  the  only  sounds  that  were  heard ;  the 
first  singing  out  every  now  and  then  in  a  very  con- 
tented and  cheerful  style,  and  the  latter  giving  oc- 
casional little  snaps  and  sparks  that  just  served  to 
make  one  take  notice  how  very  quietly  and  steadily 
it  was  burning. 

Miss  Fortune  had  left  the  room  put  up  in  the  last 
extreme  of  neatness.  Not  a  speck  of  dust  could 
be  supposed  to  lie  on  the  shining  painted  floor ; 


376  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

the  back  of  every  chair  was  in  its  place  against  the 
wall.  The  very  hearth-stones  shone,  and  the  heads 
of  the  large  iron  nails  in  the  floor  were  polished  to 
steel.  Ellen  sat  awhile  listening  to  the  soothing 
chirrup  of  the  cricket  and  the  pleasant  crackling  of 
the  flames.  It  was  a  fine  cold  winter's  day.  The 
two  little  windows  at  the  far  end  of  the  kitchen 
looked  out  upon  an  expanse  of  snow;  and  the 
large  lilac  bush  that  grew  close  by  the  wall,  moved 
lightly  by  the  wind,  drew  its  icy  fingers  over  the 
panes  of  glass.  Wintry  it  was  without ;  but  that 
made  the  warmth  and  comfort  within  seem  all  the 
more.  Ellen  would  have  enjoyed  it  very  much  if 
she  had  had  any  one  to  talk  to ;  as  it  was,  she  felt 
rather  lonely  and  sad.  She  had  begun  to  learn  a 
hymn ;  but  it  had  set  her  off  upon  a  long  train  of 
thought ;  and  with  her  head  resting  on  her  hand, 
her  fingers  pressed  into  her  cheek,  the  other  hand 
with  the  hymn-book  lying  listlessly  in  her  lap  and 
eyes  staring  into  the  fire,  she  was  sitting  the  very 
picture  of  meditation  when  the  door  opened  and 
Alice  Humphreys  came  in.     Ellen  started  up. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  !     I'm  all  alone." 

"  Left  alone,  are  you  ? "  said  Alice,  as  Ellen's 
warm  lips  were  pressed  again  and  again  to  her  cold 
cheeks. 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Fortune's  gone  out.  Come  and  sit 
down  here  in  the  rocking-chair.  How  cold  you 
are.  Oh,  do  you  know  she  is  going  to  have  a  great 
bee  here  Monday  evening  ?     What  is  a  bee  ?  " 

Alice  smiled.  "  Why,"  said  she,  "  when  people 
here  in  the  country  have  so  much  of  any  kind  of 
work  to  do  that  their  own  hands  are  not  enough 
for  it  they  send  and  call  in  their  neighbors  to  help 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  377. 

them, — that's  a  bee.  A  large  party  in  the  course  of: 
a  long  evening  can  do  a  great  deal." 

"  But  why  do  they  call  it  a  bee?  " 

"I  don't  know,  unless  they  mean  to  be  like  a 
hive  of  bees  for  the  time.  '  As  busy  as  a  bee,'  you 
know." 

"  Then  they  ought  to  call  it  a  hive  and  not  a  bee 
I  should  think.  Aunt  Fortune  is  going  to  ask  six- 
teen people.     I  wish  you  were  coming  ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  but  I  am  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  aren't.  Aunt  Fortune  isn't 
going  to  ask  you." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that,  are  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  wish  I  wasn't.  Oh,  how  she  vexed  me 
this  morning  by  something  she  said  !  " 

"  You  mustn't  get  vexed  so  easily,  my  child. 
Don't  let  every  little  untoward  thing  roughen  your 
temper." 

"  But  I  couldn't  help  it,  dear  Miss  Alice  ;  it  was 
about  you.  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  tell 
you  ;  but  I  don't  think  you'll  mind  it,  and  I  know 
it  isn't  true.  She  said  she  didn't  want  you  to 
come  because  you  were  one  of  the  proud  set." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  had  it  just  on  the  end  of  my  tongue 
to  say,  '  It's   no  such  thing  ; '  but  I  didn't  say  it," 

"  I  am  glad  you  were  so  wise.  Dear  Ellen,  that 
is  nothing  to  be  vexed  about.  If  it  were  true,  in- 
deed, you  might  be  sorry.  I  trust  Miss  Fortune  is 
mistaken.  I  shall  try  and  find  some  way  to  make 
her  change  her  mind.     I  am  glad  you  told  me." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come,  dear  Alice  !  "  said 
Ellen  again.  "  I  wish  I  could  have  you  always  !  " 
And  the  long,  very  close  pressure  of  her  two  arms 


378  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

about  her  friend  said  as  much.  There  was  a  long 
pause.  The  cheek  of  Alice  rested  on  Ellen's  head, 
which  nestled  against  her ;  both  were  busily  think- 
ing ;  but  neither  spoke  ;  and  the  cricket  chirped  and 
the  flames  crackled  without  being  listened  to. 

"  Miss  Alice,"  said  Ellen,  after  a  long  time, — "  I 
wish  you  would  talk  over  a  hymn  with  me." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  my  dear  ? "  said  Alice, 
rousing  herself. 

"  I  mean,  read  it  over  and  explain  it.  Mamma 
used  to  do  it  sometimes.  I  have  been  thinking  a 
great  deal  about  her  to-day ;  and  I  think  I'm  very 
different  from  what  I  ought  to  be.  I  wish  you 
would  talk  to  me  and  make  me  better,  Miss  Alice." 

Alice  pressed  an  earnest  kiss  upon  the  tearful 
little  face  that  was  uplifted  to  her,  and  presently 
said, 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  a  poor  substitute  for 
your  mother,  Ellen.     What  hymn  shall  we  take  ?  " 

"  Any  one — this  one  if  you  like.  Mamma  likes 
it  very  much.     I  was  looking  it  over  to-day. 

"  '  A  charge  to  keep  I  have — 
A  God  to  glorify  ; 
A  never-dying  soul  to  save 
And  fit  it  for  the  sky  '  " 

Alice  read  the  first  line  and  paused. 

"  There  now,"  said  Ellen, — "  what  is  a  charge  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do,  but  I  wish  you  would  tell  me." 

"Try  to  tell  me  first." 

"  Isn't  it  something  that  is  given  one  to  do  ? — I 
don't  know  exactly." 

"  It  is  something  given  one  in  trust,  to  be  done 
s>r  taken  care  of.     I  remember  very  well  once  when 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  37^ 

I  was  about  your  age  my  mother  had  occasion 
to  go  out  for  half  an  hour,  and  she  left  me  in 
charge  of  my  little  baby  sister ;  she  gave  me  a 
charge  not  to  let  anything  disturb  her  while  she 
was  away  and  to  keep  her  asleep  if  I  could.  And 
I  remember  how  I  kept  my  charge  too.  I  was  not 
to  take  her  out  of  the  cradle,  but  I  sat  beside  her 
the  whole  time  ;  I  would  not  suffer  a  fly  to  light 
on  her  little  fair  cheek ;  I  scarcely  took  my  eyes 
from  her ;  I  made  John  keep  pussy  at  a  distance  ; 
and  whenever  one  of  the  little  round  dimpled  arms 
was  thrown  olit  upon  the  coverlet,  I  carefully  drew 
something  over  it  again." 

"  Is  she  dead  ? "  said  Ellen,  timidly,  her  eyes 
watering  in  sympathy  with  Alice's. 

"  She  is  dead,  my  dear  ;  she  died  before  we  left 
England." 

"  I  understand  what  a  charge  is,"  said  Ellen, 
after  a  little  ;  "  but  what  is  this  charge  the  hymn 
speaks  of  ?     What  charge  have  I  to  keep  ? " 

"  The  hymn  goes  on  to  tell  you.  The  next  line 
gives  you  part  of  it.     '  A  God  to  glorify.'  " 

"  To  glorify  ?  "  said  Ellen,  doubtfully. 

"  Yes — that  is  to  honor, — to  give  Him  all  the 
honor  that  belongs  to  Him." 

"  But  can  /honor  Him  ? " 

"  Most  certainly ;  either  honor  or  dishonor  ; 
you  cannot  help  doing  one." 

"  I  !  "  said  Ellen  again. 

"  Must  not  your  behavior  speak  either  well  or  ill 
for  the  mother  who  has  brought  you  up  ?  " 

"  Yes— I  know  that." 

u  Very  well ;  when  a  child  of  God  lives  as  he 
Ought  to  do,  people  cannot  help  having  high  and 


3S0  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

noble  thoughts  of  that  glorious  One  whom  he  serves, 
and  of  that  perfect  law  he  obeys.  Little  as  they 
may  love  the  ways  of  religion,  in  their  own  secret 
hearts  they  cannot  help  confessing  that  there  is  a 
*God  and  that  they  ought  to  serve  Him.  But  a 
worldling,  and  still  more  an  unfaithful  Christian, 
just  helps  people  to  forget  there  is  such  a  Being, 
and  makes  them  think  either  that  religion  is  a  sham, 
or  that  they  may  safely  go  on  despising  it.  I  have 
iieard  it  said,  Ellen,  that  Christians  are  the  only 
Bible  some  people  ever  read ;  and  it  is  true  ;  all 
they  know  of  religion  is  what  they  get  from  the 
lives  of  its  professors ;  and  oh  !  were  the  world 
but  full  of  the  right  kind  of  example,  the  kingdom 
of  darkness  could  not  stand.  '  Arise,  shine  ! '  is 
a  word  that  every    Christian  ought  to   take  home." 

"  But  how  can  I  shine  ?  "  asked  Ellen. 

"  My  dear  Ellen  ! — in  the  faithful,  patient,  self- 
denying  performance  of  every  duty  as  it  comes  to 
hand, — '  whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it 
with  thy  might.'  " 

"  It  is  very  little  that  /can  do,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Perhaps  more  than  you  think,  but  never  mind 
that.  All  are  not  great  stars  in  the  church  ;  you 
may  be  only  a  little  rushlight ; — see  you  burn  well !  " 

"  I  remember,"  said  Ellen,  musing, — "  mamma 
once  told  me  when  I  was  going  somewhere,  that 
people  would  think  strangely  of  her  if  I  didn't  be- 
have well." 

"  Certainly.  Why,  Ellen,  I  formed  an  opinion  of 
her  very  soon  after  I  knew  you." 

"  Did  you  ? "  said  Ellen,  with  a  wonderfully 
brightened  face,  "  what  was  it  ? — was  it  good  ? — ■ 
ah  !  do  tell  me!" 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  38 1 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  of  the  wisdom  of  that,"  said 
Alice,  smiling ;  "  you  might  take  home  the  praise 
that  is  justly  her  right  and  not  yours." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  had  rather  she 
should  have  it  than  I.  Please  tell  me  what  you 
thought  of  her,  dear  Alice, — I  know  it  was  good,  at 
any  rate." 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Alice, — "at  all  risks. 
I  thought  your  mother  was  a  lady,  from  the  honor- 
able notions  she  had  given  you  ;  and  from  your 
ready  obedience  to  her,  which  was  evidently  the 
obedience  of  love,  I  judged  she  had  been  a  good 
mother  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term.  I  thought 
she  must  be  a  refined  and  cultivated  person  from 
the  manner  of  your  speech  and  behavior;  and  I 
was  sure  she  was  a  Christian  because  she  had 
taught  you  the  truth,  and  evidently  had  tried  to  lead 
you  in  it." 

The  quivering  face  of  delight  with  which  Ellen  be- 
gan to  listen  gave  way,  long  before  Alice  had  done, 
to  a  burst  of  tears. 

"  It  makes  me  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  she 
said. 

"  The  praise  of  it  is  your  mother's,  you  know, 
Ellen." 

"  I  know  it, — but  you  make  me  so  glad  !  "  And 
hiding  her  face  in  Alice's  lap,  she  fairly  sobbed. 

"You  understand  now,  don't  you,  how  Christians 
may  honor  or  dishonor  their  Heavenly  Father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  but  it  makes  me  afraid  to  think 
of  it." 

"  Afraid  ?  it  ought  rather  to  make  you  glad.  It 
is  a  great  honor  and  happiness  for  us  to  be  per- 
mitted to  honor  Him. 


382  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  '  A  never  dying  soul  to  save 
And  fit  it  for  the  sky.' 

"  Yes — that  is  the  great  duty  you  owe  yoursell 
Oh,  never  forget  it,  dear  Ellen !  And  whatever 
would  hinder  you,  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
'What  shall  it  profit  a  man  though  he  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul.' 

"  '  To  serve  the  present  age 
My  calling  to  fulfill '  " 

"What  is  '  the  present  age  '  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  All  the  people  who  are  living  in  the  world  at 
this  time." 

"  But,  dear  Alice  ! — what  can  I  do  to  the  present 
age  ? " 

"  Nothing  to  the  most  part  of  them,  certainly ; 
and  yet,  dear  Ellen,  if  your  little  rushlight  shines 
well,  there  is  just  so  much  the  less  darkness  in  the 
world, — though  perhaps  you  light  only  a  very  little 
corner.  Every  Christian  is  a  blessing  to  the  world  ; 
another  grain  of  salt  to  go  towards  sweetening  and 
saving  the  mass." 

"  That  is  very  pleasant  to  think  of,"  said  Ellen, 
musing. 

"  Oh,  if  we  were  but  full  of  love  to  our  Saviour, 
how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  do  anything  for  Him  ! 
how  many  ways  we  should  find  of  honoring  Him 
by  doing  good." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  some  of  the  ways  that 
I  can  do  it,"  said  Ellen. 

"  You  will  find  them  fast  enough  if  you  seek 
them,  Ellen.  No  one  is  so  poor  or  so  young  but 
he  has  one  talent  at  least  to  use  for  God." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  mine  is,"  said  Ellen. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  383 

"  Is  your  daily  example  as  perfect  as  it  can  be  ?  " 

Ellen  was  silent  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Christ  pleased  not  Himself,  and  went  about  do- 
ing good  ;  and  He  said,  ■  If  any  man  serve  Me,  let 
him  follow  Me'  Remember  that.  Perhaps  your 
aunt  is  unreasonable  and  unkind  ; — see  with  how 
much  patience  and  perfect  sweetness  of  temper  you 
can  bear  and  forbear;  see  if  you  cannot  win  her 
over  by  untiring  gentleness,  obedience,  and  meek- 
ness.    Is  there  no  improvement  to  be  made  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  me,  yes  ! "  answered  Ellen  with  a  sigh. 

"  Then  your  old  grandmother.  Can  you  do  noth- 
ing to  cheer  her  life  in  her  old  age  and  helplessness  ? 
— can't  you  find  some  way  of  giving  her  pleasure  ? 
— some  way  of  amusing  a  long  tedious  hour  now 
and  then  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  very  grave  ;  in  her  inmost  heart  she 
knew  this  was  a  duty  she  shrank  from. 

"  He  '  went  about  doing  good.'  Keep  that  in 
mind.  A  kind  word  spoken, — a  little  thing  done 
to  smooth  the  way  of  one  or  lighten  the  load  of 
another, — teaching  those  who  need  teaching, — 
entreating  those  who  are  walking  in  the  wrong  way 
— oh  !  my  child,  there  is  work  enough  ! 

"  '  To  serve  the  present  age, 
My  calling  to  fulfill, 
O  may  it  all  my  powers  engage 
To  do  my  Maker's  will. 

**  '  Arm  me  with  jealous  care, 
As  in  Thy  sight  to  live  ; 
And  O  !  thy  servant,   Lord,  prepare 
A  strict  account  to  give.'  " 

"  An  account  of  what  ?  "  said  Ellen. 
"  You    know  what  an    account    is.      If    I    give 
Thomas  a  dollar  to  spend  for  me  at  Carra-carra,  I 


384  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

expect  he  will  give  me  an  exact  account  when  he 
comes  back,  what  he  has  done  with  every  shilling 
of  it.  So  must  we  give  an  account  of  what  we 
have  done  with  everything  our  Lord  has  committed 
to  our  care, — our  hands,  our  tongues,  our  time,  our 
minds,  our  influence  ;  how  much  we  have  honored 
Him,  how  much  good  we  have  done  to  others,  how 
fast  and  how  far  we  have  grown  holy  and  fit  for 
heaven." 

"  It  almost  frightens  me  to  hear  you  talk,  Miss 
Alice." 

"  Not  frighten,  dear  Ellen, — that  is  not  the  word  ; 
sober  we  ought  to  be  ;— mindful  to  do  nothing  we 
shall  not  wish  to  remember  in  the  great  day  of 
account.  Do  you  recollect  how  that  day  is  de- 
scribed ?     Where  is  your  Bible  ?  " 

She  opened  to  the  20th  chapter  of  the  Revela- 
tion. 

"  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  Him  that 
sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven 
fled  away ;  and  there  was  found  no  place  for 
them. 

"  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand 
before  God ;  and  the  books  were  opened :  and 
another  book  was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life  ; 
and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  those  things  which 
were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their  works. 
And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead  which  were  in  it ;  and 
death  and  hell  delivered  up  the  dead  which  were  in 
them  :  and  they  were  judged  every  man  according 
to  their  works.  And  death  and  hell  were  cast  into 
the  lake  of  fire.     This  is  the  second  death. 

"  And  whosoever  was  not  found  written  in  the 
book  of  life  was  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  385 

Ellen  shivered.  "  That  is  dreadful  !  "  she 
said. 

"  It  will  be  a  dreadful  day  to  all  but  those  whose 
names  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life  ; — not 
dreadful  to  them,  dear  Ellen." 

"  But  how  shall  I  be  sure,  dear  Alice,  that  my 
name  is  written  there  ?  and  I  can't  be  happy  if  I  am 
not  sure." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Alice,  tenderly,  as  Ellen's 
anxious  face  and  glistening  eyes  were  raised  to  hers, 
"if  you  love  Jesus  Christ  you  may  know  you  are 
His  child,  and  none  shall  pluck  you  out  of  His 
hand. 

"  But  how  can  I  tell  whether  I  do  love  Him 
really  ?  sometimes  I  think  I  do,  and  then,  again, 
sometimes  I  am  afraid  I  don't  at  all." 

Alice  answered  in  the  words  of  Christ  ; — "  He 
that  hath  My  commandments  and  keepeth  them, 
he  it  is  that  loveth  Me." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  keep  His  commandments  1 "  said 
Ellen,  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Perfectly \  none  of  us  do.  But,  dear  Ellen,  that 
is  not  the  question.  Is  it  your  heart's  desire  and 
effort  to  keep  them  ?  Are  you  grieved  when  you 
fail  ?  There  is  the  point.  You  cannot  love  Christ 
without  loving  to  please  Him." 

Ellen  rose,  and  putting  both  arms  round  Alice's 
neck,  laid  her  head  there,  as  her  manner  some* 
times  was,  tears  flowing  fast. 

"  I  sometimes  think  I  do  love  Him  a  little,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  do  so  many  wrong  things.  But  He 
will  teach  me  to  love  Him  if  I  ask  Him,  won't  He, 
dear  Alice  ? " 

"  Indeed,  He  will,  dear  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  folding 


386  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

her  arms  around  her  little  adopted  sister, — "  indeed. 
He  will.  He  has  promised  that.  Remember  what 
He  told  somebody  who  was  almost  in  despair, — 
'  Fear  not — only  believe.'  " 

Alice's  neck  was  wet  with  Ellen's  tears  ;  and 
after  they  had  ceased  to  flow  her  arms  kept  their 
hold  and  her  head  its  resting-place  on  Alice's 
shoulder  for  some  time.  It  was  necessary  at  last 
for  Alice  to  leave  her. 

Ellen  waited  till  the  sound  of  her  horse's  foot- 
steps died  away  on  the  road;  and  then  sinking 
on  her  knees  beside  her  rocking-chair,  she  poured 
forth  her  whole  heart  in  prayers  and  tears.  She 
confessed  many  a  fault  and  short-coming  that 
none  knew  but  herself  ;  and  most  earnestly 
besought  help  that  "  her  little  rushlight  might  shine 
bright."  Prayer  was  to  little  Ellen  what  it  is  to  all 
that  know  it, — the  satisfying  of  doubt,  the  soothing 
of  care,  the  quieting  of  trouble.  She  had  knelt 
down  very  uneasy  ;  but  she  knew  that  God  has 
promised  to  be  the  hearer  of  prayer,  and  she  rose 
up  very  comforted,  her  mind  fixing  on  those  most 
sweet  words  Alice  had  brought  to  her  memory, — 
"  Fear  not — only  believe."  When  Miss  Fortune 
returned  Ellen  was  quietly  asleep  again  in  her 
rocking-chair,  with  a  face  very  pale  but  calm  as  an 
evening  sunbeam. 

"  Well,  I  declare  if  that  child  ain't  sleeping  her 
life  away  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune.  "  She's  slept  this 
"whole  blessed  forenoon  ;  I  suppose  she'll  want  to 
be  alive  and  dancing  the  whole  night  to  pay  for  it." 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  she'll  want  a  sight  more," 
said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  who  had  followed  her  in ;  it 
must  have  been  to  see  about  Ellen,  for   he    was 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  387 

never  known  to  do  such  a  thing  before  or  since ; 
"  I'll  tell  you  what  she'll  want,  and  that's  a  right 
hot  supper.  She  ate  as  nigh  as  possible  nothing  at 
all  this  noon.  There  ain't  much  danger  of  her 
dancing  a  hole  in  your  floor  this  some  time." 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Is  supper  ready,  the  house  trimmed,  rushes  strewed,  cobwebs  swept? 

Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

Great  preparations  were  making  all  Saturday  and 
Monday  for  the  expected  gathering.  From  morn- 
ing till  night  Miss  Fortune  was  in  a  perpetual 
bustle.  The  great  oven  was  heated  no  less 
than  three  several  times  on  Saturday  alone. 
Ellen  could  hear  the  breaking  of  eggs  in  the  buttery, 
and  the  sound  of  beating  or  whisking  for  a  long 
time  together  ;  and  then  Miss  Fortune  would  come 
out  with  floury  hands,  and  plates  of  empty  egg- 
shells made  their  appearance.  But  Ellen  saw  no 
more.  Whenever  the  coals  were  swept  out  of  the 
oven  and  Miss  Fortune  had  made  sure  that  the 
heat  was  just  right  for  her  purposes,  Ellen  was  sent 
out  of  the  way,  and  when  she  got  back  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  fast-shut  oven  door.  It 
was  just  the  same  when  the  dishes  in  all  their  per- 
fection were  to  come  out  of  the  oven  again.  The 
utmost  Ellen  was  permitted  to  see  was  the  napkin 
covering  some  stray  cake  or  pie  that  by  chance  had 
to  pass  through  the  kitchen  where  she  was. 

As  she  could  neither  help  nor  look  on,  the  day 
passed  rather  wearily.  She  tried  studying  ;  a  very 
little  she  found  was  enough  to  satisfy  both  mine 
and  body  in  their  present  state.  She  longed  to  go 
out  again  and  see  how  the  snow  looked,  but  a  fierce 


388  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

Wind  all  the  fore  part  of  the  day  made  it  unfit  foi 
her.  Towards  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  she  saw 
with  joy  that  it  had  lulled,  and  though  very  cold, 
was  so  bright  and  calm  that  she  might  venture. 
She  had  eagerly  opened  the  kitchen  door  to  go  up 
and  get  ready,  when  a  long  weary  yawn  from  her 
old  grandmother  made  her  look  back.  The  old 
lady  had  laid  her  knitting  in  her  lap  and  bent  her 
face  down  to  her  hand,  which  she  was  rubbing 
across  her  brow  as  if  to  clear  away  the  tired  feeling 
that  had  settled  there.  Ellen's  conscience  instantly 
brought  up  Alice's  words, — "  Can't  you  do  some- 
thing to  pass  away  a  tedious  hour  now  and  then  ? " 
The  first  feeling  was  of  vexed  regret  that  they 
should  have  come  into  her  head  at  that  moment ; 
then  conscience  said  that  was  very  selfish.  There 
was  a  struggle.  Ellen  stood  with  the  door  in  her 
hand,  unable  to  go  out  or  come  in.  But  not  long. 
As  the  words  came  back  upon  her  memory, — "  A 
charge  to  keep  I  have," — her  mind  was  made  up  ; 
after  one  moment's  prayer  for  help  and  forgiveness 
she  shut  the  door,  came  back  to  the  fireplace,  and 
spoke  in  a  cheerful  tone. 

"  Grandma,  wouldn't  you  like  to  have  me  read 
something  to  you  ? " 

"  Read  !  "  answered  the  old  lady,  "  Laws  a  me ! 
/don't  read  nothing,  deary." 

"  But  wouldn't  you  like  to  have  me  read  to  you, 
grandma  ?  " 

The  old  lady,  in  answer  to  this,  laid  down  her 
knitting,  folded  both  arms  round  Ellen,  and  kissing 
her  a  great  many  times,  declared  she  should  like  any- 
thing that  came  out  of  that  sweet  little  mouth.  As 
soon  as  she  was  set  free,  Ellen  brought  her  Bible, 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  389 

sat  down  close  beside  her,  and  read  chapter  after 
chapter ;  rewarded  even  then  by  seeing  that  though 
her  grandmother  said  nothing,  she  was  listening 
with  fixed  attention,  bending  down  over  her  knit- 
ting as  if  in  earnest  care  to  catch  every  word.  And 
when  at  last  she  stopped,  warned  by  certain  noises 
downstairs  that  her  aunt  would  presently  be  bus- 
tling in,  the  old  lady  again  hugged  her  close  to  her 
bosom,  kissing  her  forehead  and  cheeks  and  lips,  and 
declaring  that  she  was  "a  great  deal  sweeter  than 
any  sugar-plums  ;  "  and  Ellen  was  very  much  sur- 
prised to  feel  her  face  wet  with  a  tear  from  her  grand- 
mother's cheek.  Hastily  kissing  her  again  (for  the 
first  time  in  her  life)  she  ran  out  of  the  room,  her 
own  tears  starting  and  her  heart  swelling  big. 
"  Oh  !  how  much  pleasure,"  she  thought,  "  I  might 
have  given  my  poor  grandma,  and  how  I  have  let 
her  alone  all  this  while  !  How  wrong  I  have  been  ! 
But  it  sha'n't  be  so  in  future  !  " 

It  was  not  quite  sundown,  and  Ellen  thought  she 
might  yet  have  two  or  three  minutes  in  the  open 
air.  So  she  wrapped  up  very  warm  and  went  out 
to  the  chip-yard. 

Ellen's  heart  was  very  light ;  she  had  just  been 
fulfilling  a  duty  that  cost  her  a  little  self-denial,  and 
the  reward  had  already  come  ;  and  now  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  never  seen  anything  so  perfectly 
beautiful  as  the  scene  before  her  ; — the  brilliant 
snow  that  lay  in  a  thick  carpet  over  all  the  fields 
and  hills,  and  the  pale  streaks  of  sunlight  stretch- 
ing across  it  between  the  long  shadows  that  reached 
now  from  the  barn  to  the  house.  One  moment  the 
light  tinted  the  snow-capped  fences  and  whitened 
barn-roofs ;  then  the  lights  and  the  shadows  vanished 


39< 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


together,  and  it  was  all  one  cold  dazzling  white. 
Oh,  how  glorious  ! — Ellen  almost  shouted  to  herself. 
It  was  too  cold  to  stand  still ;  she  ran  to  the  barn- 
yard to  see  the  cows  milked.  There  they  were, — 
all  her  old  friends, — Streaky  and  Dolly  and  Jane 
and  Sukey  and  Betty  Flynn, — sleek  and  contented  ; 
winter  and  summer  were  all  the  same  to  them. 
And  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  very  glad  to  see  her  there 
again,  and  Sam  Larkens  and  Johnny  Low  looked 
as  if  they  were  too,  and  Ellen  told  them  with  great 
truth  she  was  very  glad  indeed  to  be  there  ;  and 
then  she  went  in  to  supper  with  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and 
an  amazing  appetite. 

That  was  Saturday.  Sunday  passed  quietly, 
though  Ellen  could  not  help  suspecting  it  was  not 
entirely  a  day  of  rest  to  her  aunt .;  there  was  a 
savory  smell  of  cooking  in  the  morning  which 
nothing  that  came  on  table  by  any  means  account- 
ed for,  and  Miss  Fortune  was  scarcely  to  be  seen 
the  whole  day. 

With  Monday  morning  began  a  grand  bustle, 
and  Ellen  was  well  enough  now  to  come  in  for  her 
share.  The  kitchen,  parlor,  hall,  shed,  and  lower 
kitchen  must  all  be  thoroughly  swept  and  dusted  ; 
this  was  given  to  her,  and  a  morning's  work  pretty 
near  she  found  it.  Then  she  had  to  rub  bright  all 
the  brass  bandies  of  the  doors,  and  the  big  brass 
andirons  in  the  parlor,  and  the  brass  candlesticks 
on  the  parlor  mantelpiece.  When  at  last  she  had 
got  through,  and  came  to  the  fire  to  warm  herself, 
she  found  her  grandmother  lamenting  that  her 
snuff-box  was  empty,  and  asking  her  daughter  to  fill 
it  for  her. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  be  bothered  to  be  running  upstairs 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  391 

to  fill  snuff-boxes !"  answered  that  lady;  "you'll 
have  to  wait." 

"  I'll  get  it,  grandma,"  said  Ellen,  "  if  you'll  tell 
me  where." 

"  Sit  down  and  be  quiet  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune. 
"  You  go  into  my  room  just  when  I  bid  you,  and 
not  till  then." 

Ellen  sat  down.  But  no  sooner  was  Miss  Fort- 
une hid  in  the  buttery  than  the  old  lady  beckoned 
her  to  her  side,  and  nodding  her  head  a  great 
many  times,  gave  her  the  box,  saying  softly, 

"  You  can  run  up  now,  she  won't  see  you,  deary. 
It's  in  a  jar  in  the  closet.     Now's  the  time." 

Ellen  could  not  bear  to  say  no.  She  hesitated  a 
minute  and  then  boldly  opened  the  buttery  door. 

"  Keep  out ! — what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  She  wanted  me  to  go  for  the  snuff,"  said  Ellen, 
in  a  whisper  ;  "  please  do  let  me — I  won't  look  at 
anything  nor  touch  anything,  but  just  get  the 
snuff." 

With  an  impatient  gesture  her  aunt  snatched  the 
box  from  her  hand,  pushed  Ellen  out  of  the  but- 
tery and  shut  the  door.  The  old  lady  kissed  and 
fondled  her  as  if  she  had  done  what  she  had  only 
tried  to  do  ;  smoothed  down  her  hair,  praising  its 
beauty,  and  whispered. 

"  Never  mind,  deary, — you'll  read  to  grandma, 
won't  you  ?  " 

It  cost  Ellen  no  effort  now.  With  the  beginning 
of  kind  offices  to  her  poor  old  parent,  kind  feeling 
had  sprung  up  fast ;  instead  of  disliking  and  shun- 
ning she  had  begun  to  love  her. 

There  was  no  dinner  for  any  one  this  day.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  came  to  an  early  tea ;  after 


392  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

which  Ellen  was  sent  to  dress  herself,  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  to  get  some  pieces  of  board  for  the 
meat-choppers.  He  came  back  presently  with  an 
armful  of  square  bits  of  wood  ;  and  sitting  down 
before  the  fire,  began  to  whittle  the  rough  sawn 
ends  over  the  hearth.  His  mother  grew  nervous. 
Miss  Fortune  bore  it  as  she  would  have  borne  it 
from  no  one  else,  but  vexation  was  gathering  in 
her  breast  for  the  first  occasion.  Presently  Ellen's 
voice  was  heard  singing  down  the  stairs. 

"  I'd  give  something  to  stop  that  child's  pipe  !  " 
said  Miss  Fortune ;  "  she's  eternally  singing  the 
same  thing  over  and  over — something  about 'a 
charge  to  keep  ' — I'd  a  good  notion  to  give  her  a 
charge  to  keep  this  morning  ;  it  would  have  been 
to  hold  her  tongue." 

"  That  would  have  been  a  public  loss,  /think," 
said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  gravely. 

"  Well,  you  are  making  a  precious  litter  !  "  said 
the  lady,  turning  short  upon  him. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he,  in  the  same  tone, — "  it's 
nothing  but  what  the  fire'll  burn  up  anyhow  ;  don't 
worry  yourself  about  it." 

Just  as  Ellen  came  in,  so  did  Nancy  by  the 
other  door. 

"  What  are  you  here  for  ?  "  said  Miss  Fortune, 
with  an  ireful  face. 

"  Oh  ! — Come  to  see  the  folks  and  get  some 
peaches,"  said  Nancy ; — "  come  to  help  along,  to 
be  sure." 

"  Ain't  your  grandma  coming  ?  " 

,"  No,  ma'am,  she  ain't.     I  knew  she  wouldn't  be 
Of  much  use,  so  I  thought  I  wouldn't  ask  her." 
.   Miss  Fortune  immediately  ordered  her  out.      Hall 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  393 

laughing,  half  serious,  Nancy  tried  to  keep  her 
ground,  but  Miss  Fortune  was  in  no  mood  to  hear 
parleying.  She  laid  violent  hands  on  the  passive 
Nancy,  and  between  pulling  and  pushing  at  last 
got  her  out  and  shut  the  door.  Her  next  sudden 
move  was  to  haul  off  her  mother  to  bed.  Ellen 
looked  her  sorrow  at  this,  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
whistled  his  thoughts  ;  but  that  either  made  noth- 
ing, or  made  Miss  Fortune  more  determined.  Off 
she  went  with  her  old  mother  under  her  arm. 
While  she  was  gone,  Ellen  brought  the  broom  to 
sweep  up  the  hearth,  but  Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  not 
let  her. 

"  No,"  said  he, — "  it's  more  than  you  or  I  can  do. 
You  know,"  said  he,  with  a  sly  look,  "  we  might 
sweep  up  the  shavings  into  the  wrong  corner ! " 

This  entirely  overset  Ellen's  gravity,  and  un- 
luckily she  could  not  get  it  back  again,  even  though 
warned  by  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  that  her  aunt  was  com- 
ing. Trying  only  made  it  worse,  and  Miss  Fortune's 
entrance  was  but  a  signal  for  afresh  burst  of  hearty 
merriment.  What  she  was  laughing  at  was  of 
course  instantly  asked,  in  no  pleased  tone  of  voice. 
Ellen  could  not  tell ;  and  her  silence  and  blushing 
only  made  her  aunt  more  curious. 

"  Come,  leave  bothering  her,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  at  last,  "  she  was  only  laughing  at  some  of 
my  nonsense,  and  she  won't  tell  on  me." 

"  Will  you  swear  to  that  ?  "  said  the  lady,  sharply. 

"  Humph  ! — no,  I  won't  swear ;  unless  you  will 
go  before  a  magistrate  with  me  ; — but  it  is  true." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  think  I  am  as  easy  blinded  as 
all  that  comes  to  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  scornfully. 

And  Ellen  saw  that  her  aunt's  displeasure  was 


394  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

all  gathered  upon  her  for  the  evening.  She  was 
thinking  of  Alice's  words  and  trying  to  arm  herself 
with  patience  and  gentleness,  when  the  door  opened 
and  in  walked  Nancy  as  demurely  as  if  nobody  had 
ever  seen  her  before. 

"  Miss  Fortune,  granny  sent  me  to  tell  you  she  is 
sorry  she  can't  come  to-night — she  don't  think  it 
would  do  for  her  to  be  out  so  late, — she's  a  little 
touch  of  the  rheumatics,  she  says." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Miss  Fortune.  "  Now  clear 
out !  " 

"  You  had  better  not  say  so,  Miss  Fortune — I'll 
do  as  much  for  you  as  any  two  of  the  rest, — see  if 
I  don't !  >' 

"  I  don't  care — if  you  did  as  much  as  fifty !  " 
said  Miss  Fortune,  impatiently.  "  I  won't  have 
you  here ;  so  go,  or  I'll  give  you  something  to  help 
you  along." 

Nancy  saw  she  had  no  chance  with  Miss  Fortune 
in  her  present  humor,  and  went  quietly  out.  A 
little  while  after  Ellen  was  standing  at  the  window 
from  which  through  the  shed  window  she  had  a 
view  of  the  chip-yard,  and  there  she  saw  Nancy 
lingering  still,  walking  round  and  round  in  a  circle, 
and  kicking  the  snow  with  her  feet  in  a  discon- 
tented fashion. 

"  I  am  very  glad  she  isn't  going  to  be  here," 
thought  Ellen.  "  But,  poor  thing  !  I  dare  say  she 
is  very  much  disappointed.  And  how  sorry  she 
will  feel  going  back  all  that  long,  long  way  home  ! 
— what  if  I  should  get  her  leave  to  stay?  wouldn't 
it  be  a  fine  way  of  returning  good  for  evil  ? — But 
oh  dear !  I  don't  want  her  here  ! — But  that's  no 
matter " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  395 

The  next  minute  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  half  startled 
by  Ellen's  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  softest  of 
whispers  in  his  ear.  He  looked  up,  very  much 
surprised. 

"  Why,  do  you  want  her  ?  "  said  he,  likewise  in  a 
low  tone. 

"No,"'  said  Ellen,  "but  I  know  I  should  feel 
very  sorry  if  I  was  in  her  place." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  whistled  quietly  to  himself. 
"  Well !  "  said  he,  "  you  are  a  good-natured  piece." 

"  Miss  Fortune,"  said  he,  presently,  "  if  that  mis- 
chievous girl  comes  in  again  I  recommend  you  to 
let  her  stay." 

"Why?" 

"  'Cause  it's  true  what  she  said — she'll  do  you  as 
much  good  as  half  a  dozen.  She'll  behave  herself 
this  evening,  I'll  engage,  or  if  she  don't  I'll  make 
her." 

"  She's  too  impudent  to  live  !  But  I  don't  care 
— her  grandmother  is  another  sort, — but  I  guess 
she  is  gone  by  this  time." 

Ellen  waited  on,ly  till  her  aunt's  back  was  turned. 
She  slipped  downstairs  and  out  of  the  kitchen  door, 
and  ran  up  the  slope  to  the  fence  of  the  chip-yard. 

"  Nancy — Nancy !  " 

"  What  ?  "  said  Nancy,  wheeling  about. 

"  If  you  go  in  now,  I  guess  Aunt  Fortune  will  let 
you  stay." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  said  the  other,  sur- 
lily. 

"  'Cause  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  speaking  to  her 
about  it     Go  in  and  you'll  see." 

Nancy  looked  doubtfully  at  Ellen's  face,  and 
then  ran  hastily  in.     More  slowly  Ellen  went  back 


396  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

by  the  way  she  came.  When  she  reached  the  up» 
per  kitchen  she  found  Nancy  as  busy  as  possible, 
— as  much  at  home  already  as  if  she  had  been  there 
all  day ;  helping  to  set  the  table  in  the  hall,  and  go- 
ing to  and  fro  between  that  and  the  buttery  with  an 
important  face.  Ellen  was  not  suffered  to  help, 
nor  even  to  stand  and  see  what  was  doing ;  so  she 
sat  down  in  the  corner  by  her  old  friend  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt,  and  with  her  head  in  her  lap  watched  by  the 
firelight  the  busy  figures  that  went  back  and  for- 
ward, and  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  who  still  sat  working  at 
his  bits  of  board.  There  were  pleasant  thoughts 
in  Ellen's  head  that  kept  the  dancing  blaze  com- 
pany. Mr.  Van  Brunt  once  looked  up  and  asked 
her  what  she  was  smiling  at ;  the  smile  brightened 
at  his  question,  but  he  got  no  more  answer. 

At  last  the  supper  was  all  set  out  in  the  hall  so 
that  it  could  very  easily  be  brought  into  the  parlor 
when  the  time  came ;  the  waiter  with  the  best  cups 
and  saucers,  which  always  stood  covered  with  a 
napkin  on  the  table  in  the  front  room,  was  carried 
away ;  the  great  pile  of  wood  in  the  parlor  fireplace, 
built  ever  since  morning,  was  kindled ;  all  was  in 
apple-pie  order,  and  nothing  was  left  but  to  sweep 
up  the  shavings  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  made. 
This  was  done  ;  and  then  Nancy  seized  hold  of 
Ellen. 

"  Come  along,"  said  she,  pulling  her  to  the  window, 
— "  come  along,  and  let  us  watch  the  folks  come 
in." 

"  But  it  isn't  time  for  them  to  be  here  yet,"  said 
Ellen  ;  "  the  fire  is  only  just  burning." 

"Fiddle-de-dee!  they  won't  wait  for  the  fire  to 
burn,  I  can  tell  you.      They'll  be  along  directly, 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  397 

some  of  them.  I  wonder  what  Miss  Fortune  is 
thinking  of, — that  fire  had  ought  to  have  been  burn- 
ing this  long  time  ago, — but  they  won't  set  to  work 
till  they  all  get  here,  that's  one  thing.  Do  you 
know  what's  going  to  be  for  supper  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Not  a  bit  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ain't  that  funny  !  Then  I'm  better  off  than 
you.  I  say,  Ellen,  any  one  would  think  /was  Miss 
Fortune's  niece  and  you  was  somebody  else,  wouldn't 
they  ?  Goodness  !  I'm  glad  I  ain't.  I  am  going 
to  make  part  of  the  supper  myself, — what  do  you 
think  of  that  ?  Miss  Fortune  always  has  grand 
suppers — when  she  has  'em  at  all ;  'tain't  very  often, 
that's  one  thing.  I  wish  she'd  have  a  bee  every 
week,  I  know,  and  let  me  come  and  help.  Hark  ! 
— didn't  I  tell  you  ?  there's  somebody  coming  this 
minute  ;  don't  you  hear  the  sleigh-bells  ?  I'll  tell 
you  who  it  is  now ;  it's  the  Lawsons  ;  you  see  if  it 
ain't.  It's  good  it's  such  a  bright  night — we  can 
see  'em  first-rate.  There — here  they  come — just 
as  I  told  you — here's  Mimy  Lawson  the  first  one — - 
if  there's  anybody  I  do  despise  it's  Mimy  Lawson." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Ellen.  The  door  opened  and  the 
lady  herself  walked  in,  followed  by  three  others — - 
large,  tall  women,  muffled  from  head  to  foot  against 
the  cold.  The  quiet  kitchen  was  speedily  changed 
into  a  scene  of  bustle.  Loud  talking  and  laughing 
— a  vast  deal  of  unrobing — pushing  back  and  pull- 
ing up  chairs  on  the  hearth — and  Nancy  and  Ellen 
running  in  and  out  of  the  room  with  countless  wrap- 
pers, cloaks,  shawls,  comforters,  hoods,  mittens,  and 
moccasins. 


398  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  What  a  precious  muss  it  will  be  to  get  'em  all 
their  own  things  when  they  come  to  go  away  again," 
said  Nancy.  "Throw  'em  all  down  there,  Ellen,  in 
that  heap.  Now,  come  quick — somebody  else  '11 
be  here  directly." 

"  Which  is  Miss  Mirny  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  That  big  ugly  woman  in  the  purple  frock.  The 
one  next  her  is  Kitty — the  black-haired  one  is  Mary, 
and  t'other  is  Fanny.  Ugh  !  don't  look  at  'em  ;  I 
can't  bear  'em." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  'Cause  I  don't,  I  can  tell  you  ;  reason  good. 
They  are  as  stingy  as  they  can  live.  Their  way  is 
to  get  as  much  as  they  can  out  of  other  folks,  and 
let  other  folks  get  as  little  as  they  can  out  of  them. 
I  know  'em.  Just  watch  that  purple  frock  when  it 
comes  to  the  eating.     There's  Mr.  Bob." 

"  Mr.  who  ? " 

"  Bob — Bob  Lawson.  He's  a  precious  small 
young  man,  for  such  a  big  one.  There — go  take 
his  hat.  Miss  Fortune,"  said  Nancy,  coming  for- 
ward, "  mayn't  the  gentlemen  take  care  of  their 
own  things  in  the  stoop,  or  must  the  young  ladies 
wait  upon  them  too? — t'other  room  won't  hold 
everything,  neither." 

This  speech  raised  a  general  laugh,  in  the  midst 
of  which  Mr.  Bob  carried  his  own  hat  and  cloak 
into  the  shed  as  desired.  Before  Nancy  had  done 
chuckling  came  another  arrival ;  a  tall  lank  gentle- 
man, with  one  of  those  unhappy-shaped  faces  that 
are  very  broad  at  the  eyes  and  very  narrow  across 
the  chops,  and  having  a  particularly  grave  and  dull 
expression.  He  was  welcomed  with  such  a  shout 
of  mingled  laughter,  greeting,  and  jesting,  that  the 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  399 

room  was  in  a  complete  hurly-burly ;  and  a  plain- 
looking  stout  elderly  lady,  who  had  come  in  just 
behind  him,  was  suffered  to  stand  unnoticed. 

"  It's  Miss  Janet,"  whispered  Nancy, — "  Mr. 
Marshchalk's  aunt.  Nobody  wants  to  see  her 
here  ;  she's  one  of  your  pious  kind,  and  that's  a 
kind  your  aunt  don't  take  to." 

Instantly  Ellen  was  at  her  side,  offering  gently 
to  relieve  her  of  hood  and  cloak,  and  with  a  tap  on 
his  arm  drawing  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  attention  to  the 
neglected  person. 

Quite  touched  by  the  respectful  politeness  of  her 
manner,  the  old  lady  inquired  of  Miss  Fortune  as 
Ellen  went  off  with  a  load  of  mufflers,  "  who  was 
that  sweet  little  thing  ?  " 

"  It's  a  kind  of  sweetmeats  that  is  kept  for  com- 
pany, Miss  Janet,"  replied  Miss  Fortune,  with  a 
darkened  brow. 

"  She's  too  godd  for  every-day  use,  that's  a  fact," 
remarked  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

Miss  Fortune  colored  and  tossed  her  head,  and 
the  company  were  for  a  moment  still  with  surprise. 
Another  arrival  set  them  a-going  again. 

"  Here  come  the  Hitchcocks,  Ellen,"  said  Nancy. 
"  Walk  in,  Miss  Mary — walk  in,  Miss  Jenny — Mr, 
Marshchalk  has  been  here  this  great  while." 

Miss  Mary  Hitchcock  was  in  nothing  remarkable. 
Miss  Jenny,  when  her  wrappers  were  taken  off, 
showed  a  neat  little  round  figure,  and  a  round  face 
of  very  bright  -and  good  humored  expression.  It 
fastened  Ellen's  eye,  till  Nancy  whispered  her  to 
look  at  Mr.  Juniper  Hitchcock,  and  that  young 
gentleman  entered,  dressed  in  the  last  style  of 
elegance.     His  hair  was  arranged  in   a  faultless 


400  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

manner — unless,  perhaps,  it  had  a  little  too  much 
of  the  tallow  candle ;  for  when  he  had  sat  for  a 
while  before  the  fire  it  had  somewhat  the  look  of 
being  excessively  wet  with  perspiration.  His  boots 
were  as  shiny  as  his  hair ;  his  waistcoat  was  of  a 
Startling  pattern  ;  his  pantaloons  were  very  tightly 
strapped  down  ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  showy  watch- 
ribbon  hung  some  showy  seals. 

The  kitchen  was  now  one  buzz  of  talk  and  good- 
humor.  Ellen  stood  half  smiling  herself  to  see  the 
universal  smile,  when  Nancy  twitched  her. 

"  Here's  more  coming — Cilly  Dennison,  I  guess 
—no,  it's  too  tall ; — who  is  it  ?  " 

But  Ellen  flung  open  the  door  with  a  half-uttered 
scream  and  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Alice, 
and  then  led  her  in  ;  her  face  full  of  such  extreme 
joy  that  it  was,  perhaps,  one  reason  why  her  aunt's 
wore  a  very  doubtful  air  as  she  came  forward.  That 
could  not  stand,  however,  against  the  graceful  polite- 
ness and  pleasantness  of  Alice's  greeting.  Miss 
Fortune's  brow  smoothed,  her  voice  cleared,  she 
told  Miss  Humphreys  she  was  very  welcome,  and 
she  meant  it.  Clinging  close  to  her  friend  as  she 
went  from  one  to  another,  Ellen  was  delighted  to 
see  that  every  one  echoed  the  welcome.  Every 
face  brightened  at  meeting  hers,  every  eye  softened, 
and  Jenny  Hitchcock  even  threw  her  arms  round 
Alice  and  kissed  her. 

Ellen  left  now  the  window  to  Nancy  and  stood 
fast  by  her  adopted  sister,  with  a  face  of  satisfaction 
it  was  pleasant  to  see,  watching  her  very  lips  as 
they  moved.  Soon  the  door  opened  again,  and 
various  voices  hailed  the  newcomer  as  "  Jane," 
"  J  any,"  and  "  Jane  Huff."     She  was  a  decidedly 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  401 

plain-looking  country-girl,  but  when  she  came  near, 
Ellen  saw  a  sober,  sensible  face  and  a  look  of 
thorough  good-nature  which  immediately  ranked 
her  next  to  Jenny  Hitchcock  in  her  fancy.  Mr. 
Bill  Huff  followed,  a  sturdy  young  man  ;  quite  as 
plain  and  hardly  so  sensible-looking,  he  was  still 
more  shining  with  good-nature.  He  made  no  pre- 
tension to  the  elegance  of  Mr.  Juniper  Hitchcock  • 
but  before  the  evening  was  over,  Ellen  had  a  vastly 
greater  respect  for  him. 

Last,  not  least,  came  the  Dennisons  ;  it  took  Ellen 
some  time  to  make  up  her  mind  about  them.  Miss 
Cilly,  or  Cecilia,  was  certainly  very  elegant  indeed. 
Her  hair  was  in  the  extremest  state  of  nicety,  with 
a  little  round  curl  plastered  in  front  of  each  ear  ; 
how  she  coaxed  them  to  stay  there  Ellen  could  not 
conceive.  She  wore  a  real  watch,  there  was  no 
doubt  of  that,  and  there  was  even  a  ring  on  one  of 
her  fingers  with  two  or  three  blue  and  red  stones 
in  it.  Her  dress  was  smart,  and  so  was  her  figure, 
and  her  face  was  pretty  ;  and  Ellen  overheard  one 
of  the  Lawsons  whisper  to  Jenny  Hitchcock  that 
"  there  wasn't  a  greater  lady  in  the  land  than  Cilly 
Dennison."  Her  brother  was  very  different;  tali 
and  athletic,  and  rather  handsome,  he  made  no  pre- 
tension to  be  a  gentlemen.  He  valued  his  fine 
farming  and  fine  cattle  a  great  deal  higher  thao 
Juniper  Hitchcock's  gentility. 
26 


402  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Wi*  merry  sangs,  an'  friendly  cracks, 

I  wat  they  didna  weary ; 
An'  unco  tales,  an'  funnie  jokes, 
Their  sports  were  cheap  an'  cheery. 

Burns. 

As  the  party  were  all  gathered  it  was  time  to  set 
to  work.  The  fire  in  the  front  room  was  burning 
up  finely  now,  but  Miss  Fortune  had  no  idea  of 
having  pork-chopping  or  apple-paring  done  there. 
One  party  was  dispatched  downstairs  into  the  lower 
kitchen  ;  the  others  made  a  circle  round  the  fire. 
Every  one  was  furnished  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  a 
basket  of  apples  was  given  to  each  two  or  three. 
Now  it  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  talking  or  work- 
ing went  on  best.  Not  faster  moved  the  tongues  than 
the  fingers  ;  not  smoother  went  the  knives  than  the 
flow  of  talk ;  while  there  was  a  constant  leaping  of 
quarters  of  apples  from  the  hands  that  had  prepared 
them  into  the  bowls,  trays,  or  what-not,  that  stood 
on  the  hearth  to  receive  them.  Ellen  had  nothing 
to  do ;  her  aunt  had  managed  it  so,  though  she 
would  gladly  have  shared  the  work  that  looked  so 
pretty  and  pleasant  in  other  people's  hands.  Miss 
Fortune  would  not  let  her  ;  so  she  watched  the  rest, 
and  amused  herself  as  well  as  she  could  with  hear- 
ing and  seeing  ;  and  standing  between  Alice  and 
Jenny  Hitchcock,  she  handed  them  the  apples  out 
of  the  basket  as  fast  as  they  were  ready  for  them. 
It  was  a  pleasant  evening  that.  Laughing  and 
talking  went  on  so  merrily;  stories  were  told; 
anecdotes,   gossip,   jokes,   passed  from    mouth    to 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  403 

mouth  ;  and  not  one  made  himself  so  agreeable,  or 
had  so  much  to  do  with  the  life  and  pleasure  of 
the  party,  as  Alice.  Ellen  saw  it,  delighted.  The 
pared  apples  kept  dancing  into  the  bowls  and  trays  ; 
the  baskets  got  empty  surprisingly  fast ;  Nancy 
and  Ellen  had  to  run  to  the  barrels  in  the  shed 
again  and  again  for  fresh  supplies. 

"  Do  they  mean  to  do  all  these  to-night  ? "  said 
Ellen  to  Nancy  on  one  of  these  occasions. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  mean,  I  am  sure,"  re- 
plied Nancy,  diving  down  into  the  barrel  to  reach 
the  apples ; — "  if  you  had  asked  me  what  Miss  Fort- 
une meant,  I  might  ha'  given  a  guess." 

"  But  only  look,"  said  Ellen, — "  only  so  many 
done,  and  all  these  to  do  ! — Well,  I  know  what 
1  busy  as  a  bee '  means  now,  if  I  never  did  before." 

"  You'll  know  it  better  to-morrow,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh,  wait  till  you  see.  I  wouldn't  be  you  to- 
morrow for  something,  though.  Do  you  like  sew- 
ing?" 

"  Sewing  !  "  said  Ellen.  But  "  Girls  !  girls  !— 
what  are  you  leaving  the  door  open  for  ? "  sounded 
from  the  kitchen,  and  they  hurried  in. 

"  'Most  got  though,  Nancy  ?  "  inquired  Bob  Law- 
son.     (Miss  Fortune  had  gone  downstairs.) 

"  Ha'n't  begun  to,  Mr.  Lawson.  There's  every 
bit  as  many  to  do  as  there  was  at  your  house  t'other 
night." 

"  What  on  airth  does  she  want  with  such  a  sight 
of  'em,"  inquired  Dan  Dennison. 

"  Live  on  pies  and  apple-sass  till  next  summer," 
suggested  Mimy  Lawson. 

"  That's  the  stuff  for  my  money  !  "  replied  her 


404  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

brother ;  "  'taters  and  apple-sass  is  my  sass  in  the 
winter." 

"  It's  good  those  is  easy  got,"  said  his  sister 
Mary ;  "  the  jass  is  the  most  of  the  dinner  to  Bob 
most  commonly." 

"  Are  they  fixing  for  more  apple-sass  down- 
stairs ?  "   Mr.  Dennison  went  on,  rather  dryly. 

"  No — hush  !  "  said  Juniper  Hitchcock, — "  sass- 
ages !  " 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Dan,  as  he  speared  up  an  apple 
out  of  the  basket  on  the  point  of  his  knife, — "  ain't 
that  something  like  what  you  call  killing  two " 

"  Jusi  that  exactly,"  said  Jenny  Hitchcock,  as 
Dan  broke  off  short,  and  the  mistress  of  the  house 
walked  in.  "  Ellen,"  she  whispered,  "  don't  you 
want  to  go  downstairs  and  see  when  the  folks 
are  coming  up  to  help  us  ?  And  tell  the  doctor  he 
must  be  spry,  for  we  ain't  a-going  to  get  through  in 
a  hurry,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Which  is  the  doctor,  ma'am  ? " 

u  The  doctor — Doctor  Marshchalk — don't  you 
know  ?  " 

"  Is  he  a  doctor  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  No,  not  exactly,  I  suppose,  but  he's  just  as 
good  as  the  real.  He's  a  natural  knack  at  putting 
bones  in  their  places  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
There  was  a  man  broke  his  leg  horribly  at  Thirlwall 
the  other  day,  and  Gibson  was  out  of  the  way,  and 
Marshchalk  set  it,  and  did  it  famously  they  said. 
So  go,  Ellen,  and  bring  us  word  what  they  are  all 
about." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  head  of  the  party  in  the  lower 
kitchen.  He  stood  at  one  end  of  the  table,  cutting 
with  his  huge  knife  the  hard-frozen  pork  into  very 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  405 

thin  slices,  which  the  rest  of  the  company  took  and, 
before  they  had  time  to  thaw,  cut  up  into  small  dice 
on  the  little  boards  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  prepared. 
As  large  a  fire  as  the  chimney  would  hold  was  built 
up  and  blazing  finely  ;  the  room  looked  as  cozy  and 
bright  as  the  one  upstairs,  and  the  people  as  busy 
and  as  talkative.  They  had  less  to  do,  however,  or 
they  had  been  more  smart,  for  they  were  drawing 
to  the  end  of  their  chopping  ;  of  which  Miss  Janet 
declared  herself  very  glad,  for  she  said  "  the  wind 
:ame  sweeping  in  under  the  doors  and  freezing  her 
feet  the  whole  time,  and  she  was  sure  the  biggest 
jire  ever  was  built  couldn't  warm  that  room  ;  "  an 
opinion  in  which  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  agreed  perfectly. 
Miss  Janet  no  sooner  spied  Ellen  standing  in  the 
chimney-corner  than  she  called  her  to  her  side, 
kissed  her,  and  talked  to  her  a  long  time,  and  final- 
ly fumbling  in  her  pocket,  brought  forth  an  odd 
little  three-cornered  pin-cushion  which  she  gave  her 
for  a  keepsake.  Jane  Huff  and  her  brother  also 
took  kind  notice  of  her  ;  and  Ellen  began  to  think 
the  world  was  full  of  nice  people.  About  half-past 
eight  the  choppers  went  up  and  joined  the  company 
who  were  paring  apples  ;  the  circle  was  a  very  large 
one  now,  and  the  buzz  of  tongues  grew  quite  furi- 
ous. 

"  What  are  you  smiling  at  ?  "  asked  Alice  of 
Ellen,  who  stood  at  her  elbow. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  more 
broadly  ;  and  presently  added, — "  They're  all  so 
kind  to  me." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"Oh,  everybody — Miss  Jenny,  and  Miss  Jane 
Huff,  and   Miss  Janet,    and   Mrs.  Van   Brunt,  and 


4o6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Mr.  Huff, — they  all  speak  so  kindly  and  look  s« 
kindly  at  me.  But  it's  very  funny  what  a  notion 
people  have  for  kissing — I  wish  they  hadn't — I've 
run  away  from  three  kisses  already,  and  I'm  so 
afraid  somebody  else  will  try  next." 

"  You  don't  seem  very  bitterly  displeased,"  said 
Alice,  smiling. 

"  I  am,  though, — I  can't  bear  it,"  said  Ellen, 
laughing  and  blushing.  "  There's  Mr.  Dennison 
caught  me  in  the  first  place  and  tried  to  kiss  me, 
but  I  tried  so  hard  to  get  away  I  believe  he  saw  I 
was  really  in  good  earnest  and  let  me  go.  And 
just  now, — only  think  of  it, — while  I  was  standing 
talking  to  Miss  Jane  Hurl  downstairs,  her  brother 
caught  me  and  kissed  me  before  I  knew  what  he 
was  going  to  do.  I  declare  it's  too  bad  !  "  said 
Ellen,  rubbing  her  cheek  very  hard  as  if  she  would 
rub  off  the  affront. 

"  You  must  let  it  pass,  my  dear  ;  it  is  one  way  of 
expressing  kindness.  They  feel  kindly  towards 
you  or  they  would  not  do  it." 

"  Then  I  wish  they  wouldn't  feel  quite  so  kindly," 
said  Eilen,— "  that's  all.     Hark  ! — what  was  that  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  somebody  else,  and  in- 
stantly there  was  silence,  broken  again  after  a 
minute  or  two  by  the  faint  blast  of  a  horn. 

"  It's  old  Father  Swaim,  I  reckon,"  said  Mr. 
Van  Brunt ;  "  I'll  go  fetch  him  in." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  bring  him  in — bring  him  in,"  was 
heard  on  all  sides. 

"  That  horn  makes  me  think  of  what  happened 
to  me  once,"  said  Jenny  Hitchcock  to  Ellen.  "  I 
was  a  little  girl  at  school,  not  so  big  as  you  are, — ■ 
and  one  afternoon  when  we  were  all  as  still  as  mica 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD, 


407 


*nd  studying  away,  we  heard  Father  Swaim's 
horn " 

"What  does  he  blow  it  for?''  said  Ellen,  as 
Jenny  stooped  for  her  knife  which  she  had  let  falh 

"  Oh,  to  let  people  know  he's  there,  you  know ; 
did  you  never  see  Father  Swaim  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  La  !  he's  the  funniest  old  fellow !  He  goes 
round  and  round  the  country  carrying  the  news- 
papers ;  and  we  get  him  to  bring  us  our  letters 
from  the  post-office,  when  there  are  any.  Fie 
carries  'em  in  a  pair  of  saddlebags  hanging  across 
that  old  white  horse  of  his — I  don't  think  that 
horse  will  ever  grow  old,  no  more  than  his  master, 
— and  in  summer  he  has  a  stick — so  long — with  a 
horse's  tail  tied  to  the  end  of  it,  to  brush  away  the 
flies,  for  the  poor  horse  has  had  his  tail  cut  off 
pretty  short.  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  the  very  same,'* 
said  Jenny,  laughing  heartily ;  "  Father  Swaim 
thought  he  could  manage  it  best,  I  guess." 

"  But  what  was  it  that  happened  to  you  that 
time  at  school  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  Why,  when  we  heard  the  horn  blow,  our  mas- 
ter, the  school-master  you  know,  went  out  to  get  a 
paper,  and  I  was  tired  with  sitting  still,  so  I  jumped 
up  and  ran  across  the  room  and  then  back  again, 
and  ower  and  back  again,  five  or  six  times  ;  and 
when  he  came  in  one  of  the  girls  up  and  told  of 
it.  It  was  Fanny  Lawson,"  said  Jenny,  in  a 
whisper  to  Alice,  "  and  I  think  she  ain't  much 
different  now  from  what  she  was  then.  I  can 
hear  her  now, — '  Mr.  Starks,  Jenny  Hitchcock's 
been  running  all  round  the  room.'  Well,  what 
do  you  think  he  did  to  me  ?     He  took  hold  of  my 


408  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

two  hands  and  swung  me  round  and  round  by 
my  arms  till  I  didn't  know  which  was  head  and 
which  was  feet." 

"  What  a  queer  schoolmaster  !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Queer  enough  ;  you  may  say  that.  His  name 
was  Starks  -,— the  boys  used  to  call  him  Starksinca- 
tion.  We  did  hate  him,  that's  a  fact.  I'll  tell  you 
what  he  did  to  a  black  boy  of  ours — you  know  our 
black  Sam,  Alice  ? — I  forget  what  he  had  been 
doing ;  but  Starks  took  him  so — by  the  rims  of  his 
ears— and  danced  him  up  and  down  upon  the  floor." 

"  But  didn't  that  hurt  him  ?  " 

"  Hurt  him  !  I  guess  it  did  ! — he  meant  it  should. 
He  tied  me  under  the  table  once.  Sometimes 
when  he  wanted  to  punish  two  boys  at  a  time  he 
would  set  them  to  spit  in  each  other's  faces." 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me  about  him!"  cried  Ellen, 
with  a  face  of  horror ;  "  I  don't  like  to  hear  it." 

Jenny  laughed  ;  and  just  then  the  door  opened 
and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  the  old  news-carrier 
came  in. 

He  was  a  venerable,  mild-looking  old  man,  with 
thin  hair  as  white  as  snow.  He  wore  a  long  snuff- 
colored  coat  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  the  sides  of 
which  were  oddly  looped  up  to  the  crown  with 
twine ;  his  tin  horn  or  trumpet  was  in  his  hand. 
His  saddle-bags  were  on  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  arm. 
As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  Ellen  was  fevered  with 
the  notion  that  perhaps  he  had  something  for  her ; 
and  she  forgot  everything  else.  It  would  seem 
that  the  rest  of  the  company  had  the  same  hope, 
for  they  crowded  round  him  shouting  out  welcomes 
and  questions  and  inquiries  for  letters  all  in  a 
breath. 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD.  409 

"Softly — softly,"  said  the  old  man,  sitting  down 
slowly;  "not  all  at  once;  I  can't  attend  to  you  all 
at  once  ; — one  at  a  time — one  at  a  time." 

"  Don't  attend  to  'em  at  all  till  you're  ready,* 
said  Miss  Fortune, — "  let  'em  wait."  And  she 
handed  him  a  glass  of  cider. 

He  drank  it  off  at  a  breath,  smacking  his  lips  as 
he  gave  back  the  glass  to  her  hand,  and  exclaimed, 
"  That's  prime  !  "  Then  taking  up  his  saddlebags 
from  the  floor,  he  began  slowly  to  undo  the  fasten- 
ings. 

"  You  are  going  to  our  house  to-night,  ain't  you, 
Father  Swaim  ?  "  said  Jenny. 

"  That's  where  I  was  a-going,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  I  was  a-going  to  stop  with  your  father,  Miss 
Jenny;  but  since  I've  got  into  farmer  Van  Brunt's 
hands  I  don't  know  any  more  what's  going  tc* 
become  of  me ; — and  after  that  glass  of  cider  I 
don't  much  care  !  Now  let's  see, — let  see — '  Miss 
Jenny  Hitchcock,' — here's  something  for  you.  I 
should  like  to  know  very  much  what's  inside  of 
that  letter — there's  a  blue  seal  to  it.  Ah,  young 
folks  ! — young  folks  !  " 

Jenny  received  her  letter  amidst  a  great  deal  of 
laughing  and  joking,  and  seemed  herself  quite  as 
much  amused  as  anybody. 

"  '  Jedediah  B.  Lawson,' — there's  for  your  father, 
Miss  Mirny;  that  saves  me  a  longtramp — if  you've 
twenty-one  cents  in  your  pocket,  that  is  ;  if  you 
ha'n't  I  shall  be  obleeged  to  tramp  after  that. 
Here's  something  for  'most  all  of  you,  I'm  think- 
ing. '  Miss  Cecilia  Dennison,'— your  fair  hands — 
how's  the  Squire  ? — rheumatism,  eh  ?  I  think  I'm 
a  younger  man  now  than  your  father,  Cecilia  ;  and 


41  o  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

yet  I  must  ha'  seen  a  good  many  years  more  than 
Squire  Dennison  -, — I  must  surely.  '  Miss  Fortune 
Emerson,'  that's  for  you ;  a  double  letter,  ma'am." 

Ellen,  with  a  beating  heart,  had  pressed  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  old  man,  till  she  stood  close  by 
his  right  hand  and  could  see  every  letter  as  he 
handed  it  out.  A  spot  of  deepening  red  was  on 
each  cheek  as  her  eye  eagerly  scanned  letter  after 
letter ;  it  spread  to  a  sudden  flush  when  the  last 
name  was  read.  Alice  watched  in  some  anxiety 
her  keen  look  as  it  followed  the  letter  from  the  old 
man's  hand  to  her  aunt's,  and  thence  to  the  pocket 
where  Miss  Fortune  coolly  bestowed  it.  Ellen  could 
not  stand  this ;  she  sprang  forward  across  the  circle. 

"  Aunt  Fortune,  there's  a  letter  inside  of  that  for 
me — won't  you  give  it  to  me  ? — won't  you  give  it  to 
me  ?  "  she  repeated,  trembling. 

Her  aunt  did  not  notice  her  by  so  much  as  a 
look ;  she  turned  away  and  began  talking  to  some 
one  else.  The  red  had  left  Ellen's  face  when 
Alice  could  see  it  again  ; — it  was  livid  and  spotted 
from  stifled  passion.  She  stood  in  a  kind  of  maze. 
But  as  her  eye  caught  Alice's  anxious  and  sorrow- 
ful look  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
as  quick  as  possible  made  her  escape  out  of  the 
room. 

For  some  minutes  Alice  heard  none  of  the  hub- 
bub around  her.  Then  came  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  the  voice  of  Thomas  Grimes  saying  to  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  that  Miss  Humphreys'  horse  was  there. 

"Mr.  Swaim,"  said  Alice,  rising,  "  I  don't  like  to 
leave  you  with  these  gay  friends  of  ours  ;  you'll 
stand  no  chance  of  rest  with  them  to-night.  Will 
you  ride  home  with  me  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  41 1 

Many  of  the  party  began  to  beg  Alice  would  stay 
to  supper,  but  she  said  her  father  would  be  uneasy. 
The  old  news-carrier  concluded  to  go  with  her,  for 
he  said,  "  there  was  a  pint  he  wanted  to  mention 
co  parson  Humphreys  that  he  had  forgotten  to  bring 
for'ard  when  they  were  talking  on  that  'ere  subject 
two  months  ago."  So  Nancy  brought  her  things 
from  the  next  room  and  helped  her  on  with  them, 
and  looked  pleased,  as  well  she  might,  at  the  smile 
and  kind  words  with  which  she  was  rewarded. 
Alice  lingered  at  her  leave-takings,  hoping  to  see 
Ellen  ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  last  moment  that 
Ellen  came  in.  She  did  not  say  a  word  ;  but  the 
two  little  arms  were  put  round  Alice's  neck,  and 
held  her  with  a  long  close  earnestness  which  did 
not  pass  from  her  mind  all  the  evening  afterward. 

When  she  was  gone,  the  company  sat  down 
again  to  business;  and  apple-paring  went  on  more 
steadily  than  ever  for  a  while,  till  the  bottom  of 
the  barrels  was  seen,  and  the  last  basketful  of 
apples  was  duly  emptied,  Then  there  was  a  gen- 
eral shout  ;  the  kitchen  was  quickly  cleared,  and 
everybody's  face  brightened,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Now  for  fun  ! ''  While  Ellen  and  Nancy  and 
Miss  Fortune  and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  were  running 
all  ways  with  trays,  pans,  baskets,  knives,  and 
buckets,  the  fun  began  by  Mr.  Juniper  Hitchcock's 
whistling  in  his  dog  and  setting  him  to  do  various 
feats  for  the  amusement  of  the  company.  There 
followed  such  a  rushing,  leaping,  barking,  laughing, 
and  scolding,  on  the  part  of  the  dog  and  his 
admirers,  that  the  room  was  in  an  uproar.  He 
jumped  over  a  stick ;  he  got  into  a  chair  and  sat 
up  on  two  legs ;  he  kissed  the  ladies'  hands ;  he 


412  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

suffered  an  apple-paring  to  be  laid  across  his  nose, 
then  threw  it  up  with  a  jerk  and  caught  it  in  his 
mouth.  Nothing  very  remarkable  certainly,  but, 
as  Miss  Fortune  observed  to  somebody,  "if  he 
had  been  the  learned  pig  there  couldn't  ha'  been 
more  fuss  made  over  him." 

Ellen  stood  looking  on,  smiling  partly  at  the  dog 
and  his  master,  and  partly  at  the  antics  of  the  com- 
pany. Presently  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  bending  down  to 
her,  said, 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  your  eyes  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Ellen,  starting, — "  at  least  noth- 
ing that's  any  matter  I  mean." 

"Come  here,"  said  he,  drawing  her  to  one  side; 
"  tell  me  all  about  it — what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Never  mind — please  don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt — it's  nothing  I  ought  to  tell  you — it  isn't  any 
matter." 

But  her  eyes  were  full  again,  and  he  still  held 
her  fast  doubtfully. 

"  Til  tejl  you  about  it,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said 
Nancy  as  she  came  past  them, — "  you  let  her  go, 
and  I'll  tell  you  by  and  by." 

And  Ellen  tried  in  vain  afterwards  to  make  her 
promise  she  would  not. 

"  Come,  June,"  said  Miss  Jenny,  "  we  have  got 
enough  of  you  and  Jumper — turn  him  out;  we  are 
r;oing  to  have  the  cat  now.  Come  ! — Puss,  puss  in 
the  corner !  Go  off  in  t'other  room,  will  you,  every- 
body that  don't  want  to  play.     Puss,  puss  ? " 

Now  the  fun  began  in  good  earnest,  and  few 
minutes  had  passed  before  Ellen  was  laughing  with 
all  her  heart,  as  if  she  never  had  had  anything  to 
cry  for  in  her  life.    After  "  puss,  puss  in  the  corner  * 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  413 

came  "  blind  man's  buff ;  "  and  this  was  played 
with  great  spirit,  the  two  most  distinguished  being 
Nancy  and  Dan  Dennison,  though  Miss  Fortune 
played  admirably  well.  Ellen  had  seen  Nancy 
play  before ;  but  she  forgot  her  own  part  of  the 
game  in  sheer  amazement  at  the  way  Mr.  Dennison 
managed  his  long  body,  which  seemed  to  go  where 
there  was  no  room  for  it,  and  vanish  into  air  just 
when  the  grasp  of  some  grasping  "  blind  man  "  was 
ready  to  fasten  upon  him.  And  when  he  was 
blinded,  he  seemed  to  know  by  instinct  where  the 
walls  were,  and  keeping  clear  of  them  he  would 
swoop  like  a  hawk  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  pouncing  upon  the  unlucky  people  who  could 
by  no  means  get  out  of  the  way  fast  enough.  When 
this  had  lasted  a  while  there  was  a  general  call  for 
"  the  fox  and  the  goose  ; "  and  Miss  Fortune  was 
pitched  upon  for  the  latter;  she  having  in  the 
other  game  showed  herself  capable  of  good  general- 
ship.    But  who  for  the  fox  ?     Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? 

"Not  I,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt, — "there  ain't 
nothing  of  the  fox  about  me  ;  Miss  Fortune  would 
beat  me  all  hollow." 

"  Who,  then,  farmer  ?  "  said  Bill  Huff ;  "  come  ! 
who  is  the  fox  ?     Will  I  do  ?  " 

"  Not  you,  Bill ;  the  goose  'ud  be  too  much  for 
you." 

There  was  a  general  shout,  and  cries  of  "  Who, 
then  ? — who,  then  ?  " 

"  Dan  Dennison,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  "  Now 
look  out  for  a  sharp  fight." 

Amidst  a  great  deal  of  laughing  and  confusion 
the  line  was  formed,  each  person  taking  hold  of  a 
handkerchief  or  band  passed  round   the  waist  of 


414  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

the  person  before  him,  except  when  the  women 
held  by  each  other's  skirts.  They  weve  ranged 
according  to  height,  the  tallest  being  next  their 
leader,  the  "  goose."  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  the  elder 
ladies,  and  two  or  three  more,  chose  to  be  lookers- 
on,  and  took  post  outside  the  door. 

Mr.  Dennison  began  by  taking  off  his  coat,  to 
give  himself  more  freedom  in  his  movements  ;  for 
his  business  was  to  catch  the  train  of  the  goose, 
one  by  one,  as  each  in  turn  became  the  hindmost ; 
while  her  object  was  to  baffle  him  and  keep  her 
family  together,  meeting  him  with  outspread  arms 
at  every  rush  he  made  to  seize  one  of  her  brood  ; 
while  the  long  train  behind  her,  following  her  quick 
movements  and  swaying  from  side  to  side  to  get 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  furious  fox,  was  sometimes 
in  the  shape  of  the  letter  C,  and  sometimes  in  that 
of  the  letter  S,  and  sometimes  looked  like  a  long 
snake  with  a  curling  tail.  Loud  was  the  laughter, 
shrill  the  shrieks,  as  the  fox  drove  them  hither  and 
thither,  and  seemed  to  be  in  all  parts  of  the  room 
at  once.  He  was  a  cunning  fox  that,  as  well  as  a 
bold  one.  Sometimes,  when  they  thought  him  quite 
safe,  held  at  bay  by  the  goose,  he  dived  under  or 
leaped  over  her  outstretched  arms  and  a/most 
snatched  hold  of  little  Ellen,  who,  being  the  least, 
was  the  last  one  of  the  party.  But  Ellen  played 
very  well,  and  just  escaped  him  two  or  three  times, 
till  he  declared  she  gave  him  so  much  trouble  that 
when  he  caught  her  he  would  "  kiss  her  the  worst 
kind. "  Ellen  played  none  the  worse  for  that ; 
however,  she  was  caught  at  last,  and  kissed  too ; 
there  was  no  help  for  it ;  so  she  bore  it  as  well  we 
she  could.     Then  she  watched,  and  laughed  till  tht 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  415 

tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  to  see  how  the  fox  and 
the  goose  dodged  each  other,  what  tricks  were 
played,  and  how  the  long  train  pulled  each  other 
about.  At  length  Nancy  was  caught,  and  then 
Jenny  Hitchcock,  and  then  Cecilia  Dennison,  and 
then  Jane  Huff,  and  so  on,  till  at  last  the  fox  and 
the  goose  had  a  long  struggle  for  Mimy  Lawson, 
which  would  never  have  come  to  an  end  if  Mimy 
had  not  gone  over  to  the  enemy. 

There  was  a  general  pause.  The  hot  and  tired 
company  were  seated  round  the  room,  panting  and 
fanning  themselves  with  their  pocket-handker- 
chiefs, and  speaking  in  broken  sentences  ;  glad  to 
rest  even  from  laughing.  Miss  Fortune  had  thrown 
herself  down  on  a  seat  close  by  Ellen,  when  Nancy 
came  up  and  softly  asked,  "  Is  it  time  to  beat  the 
eggs  now  ?  "  Miss  Fortune  nodded,  and  then  drew 
her  close  to  receive  a  long  low  whisper  in  her  ear, 
at  the  end  of  which  Nancy  ran  off. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  " 
said  Ellen,  so  gently  and  timidly  that  it  ought  to 
have  won  a  kind  answer. 

"Yes,"'  said  her  aunt, — "you  may  go  and  put 
yourself  to  bed  ;  it's  high  time  long  ago."  And 
looking  round  as  she  moved  off,  she  added,  "  Go  !  " 
— with  a  little  nod  that  as  much  as  said,  "  I  am  in 
earnest." 

Ellen's  heart  throbbed;  she  stood  doubtful. 
One  word  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  she  need  not  go, 
— that  she  knew.  But  as  surely,  too,  that  word 
would  make  trouble  and  do  harm.  And  then  she 
remembered,  "  A  charge  to  keep  I  have  !  " — She 
turned  quickly  and  quitted  the  room. 

Ellen  sat  down  on  the  first  stair  she  came  to,  tm 


4i  o  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

her  bosom  was  heaving  up  and  down,  and  she  was 
determined  not  to  cry.  The  sounds  of  talking  and 
laughing  came  to  her  ear  from  the  parlor,  and 
there  at  her  side  stood  the  covered-up  supper  ; — for 
a  few  minutes  it  was  hard  work  to  keep  her  resolve. 
The  thick  breath  came  and  went  very  fast.  Through 
the  fanlights  of  the  hall-door,  opposite  to  which  she 
was  sitting,  the  bright  moonlight  streamed  in ; — 
and  presently,  as  Ellen  quieted,  it  seemed  to  her 
fancy  like  a  gently  messenger  from  its  Maker,  bid- 
ding His  child  remember  Him  ; — and  then  came  up 
some  words  in  her  memory  that  her  mother's 
lips  had  fastened  there  long  ago  ; — "  I  love  them 
that  love  Me,  and  they  that  seek  Me  early  shall  find 
Me."  She  remembered  her  mother  had  told  her  it 
is  Jesus  who  says  this.  Her  lost  pleasure  was. 
well-nigh  forgotten  ;  and  yet,  as  she  sat  gazing  in- 
to the  moonlight,  Ellen's  eyes  were  gathering  tears 
very  fast. 

"Well,  I  am  seeking  Him,"  she  thought, — "  can 
it  be  that  He  loves  me  ? — Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

And  they  were  glad  tears  that  little  Ellen  wiped 
away  as  she  went  upstairs ;  for  it  was  too  cold  to 
sit  there  long  if  the  moon  was  ever  so  bright. 

She  had  her  hand  on  the  latch  of  her  door  when 
her  grandmother  called  out  from  the  other  room  to 
know  who  was  there. 

"  It's  I,  grandma." 

"  Ain't  somebody  there  ?  Come  in  here — who 
is  it?" 

"  It's  I,  grandma,"  said  Ellen,  coming  to  the  door. 

"  Come  in  here,  deary,"  said  the  old  woman,  in 
a  lower  tone, — "  what  is  it  all?  what's  the  matter? 
who's  downstairs  ?  " 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  417 

"  It's  a  bee,  grandma  ;  there's  nothing  the  mat 
ter." 

"  A  bee  ?  who's  been  stung  ?  What's  all  the 
noise  about  ?  " 

*  'Tisn't  that  kind  of  bee,  grandma ;  don't  you 
know  ?  there's  a  parcel  of  people  that  came  to  pare 
apples,  and  they've  been  playing  games  in  the  par- 
lor— that's  all." 

"  Paring  apples,  eh  ?     Is  there  company  below  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  a  whole  parcel  of  people." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  "  I  oughtn't  to 
ha'  been  abed  !  Why  ha'n't  Fortune  called  me  ? 
I'll  get  right  up.  Ellen  you  go  in  that  fur  closet 
and  bring  me  my  paddysoy  that  hangs  there,  and 
then  help  me  on  with  my  things ;  I'll  get  right  up. 
Dear  me  !  what  was  Fortune  thinking  about  ?  " 

The  moonlight  served  very  well  instead  of  can- 
dles. After  twice  bringing  the  wrong  dresses,  Ellen 
at  last  hit  upon  the  "  paddysoy,"  which  the  old  lady 
knew  immediately  by  the  touch.  In  haste,  and 
not  without  some  fear  and  trembling  on  Ellen's 
part,  she  was  arrayed  in  it ;  her  best  cap  put  on, 
not  over  hair  in  the  best  order,  Ellen  feared,  but 
the  old  lady  would  not  stay  to  have  it  made  better ; 
Ellen  took  care  of  her  down  the  stairs,  and  after 
opening  the  door  for  her  went  back  to  her  room. 

A  little  while  had  passed,  and  Ellen  was  just 
tying  her  night-cap  strings  and  ready  to  go  peace- 
fully to  sleep,  when  Nancy  burst  in. 

"  Ellen  !  Hurry  !  you  must  come  right  down- 
stairs." 

"  Downstairs  ! — why,  I  am  just  ready  to  go  to 
bed." 

"  No  matter — you  must  come  right  away  down. 


4i8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

There's  Mr.  Van  Brunt  says  he  won't  begin  suppe? 
till  you  come." 

"  But  does  Aunt  Fortune  want  me  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  tell  you  !  and  the  quicker  you  come  the 
better  she'll  be  pleased.  She  sent  me  after  you  in 
all  sorts  of  a  hurry.  She  said  she  didn't  know 
where  you  was." 

"  Said  she  didn't  know  where  I  was  !     Why,  she 

told   me   herself "  Ellen    began    and   stopped 

short. 

"  Of  course  !  "  said  Nancy,  "  don't  you  think  I 
know  that?  But  he  don't,  and  if  you  want  to 
plague  her  you'll  just  tell  him.  Now  come  and  be 
quick,  will  you.     The  supper's  splendid." 

Ellen  lost  the  first  view  of  the  table,  for  every- 
thing had  begun  to  be  pulled  to  pieces  before  she 
came  in.  The  company  were  all  crowded  round 
the  table,  eating  and  talking  and  helping  them- 
selves ;  and  ham  and  bread  and  butter,  pumpkin 
pies  and  mince  pies  and  apple  pies,  cake  of  vari- 
ous kinds,  and  glasses  of  egg-nogg  and  cider  were 
in  everybody's  hands.  One  dish  in  the  middle  of 
the  table  had  won  the  praise  of  every  tongue ;  no- 
body could  guess  and  many  asked  how  it  was  made, 
but  Miss  Fortune  kept  a  satisfied  silence,  pleased 
to  see  the  constant  stream  of  comers  to  the  big 
dish  till  it  was  near  empty.  Just  then  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  seeing  Ellen  had  nothing,  gathered  up  all 
that  was  left  and  gave  it  to  her. 

It  was  sweet  and  cold  and  rich.  Ellen  told  her 
mother  afterwards  it  was  the  best  thing  she  had 
ever  tasted  except  the  ice-cream  she  once  gave  her 
in  New  York.  She  had  taken,  however,  but  one 
spoonful  when  her  eye  fell  upon  Nancy,  standing 


»         THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  419 

back  of  all  the  company,  and  forgotten.  Nancy 
had  been  upon  her  good  behavior  all  the  evening, 
and  it  was  a  singular  proof  of  this  that  she  had  not 
pushed  in  and  helped  herself  among  the  first. 
Ellen's  eye  went  once  or  twice  from  her  plate  to 
Nancy,  and  then  she  crossed  over  and  offered  it  to 
her.  It  was  eagerly  taken,  and  a  little  disappoint- 
ed, Ellen  stepped  back  again.  But  she  soon  for- 
got the  disappointment,  "  She'll  know  now  that  I 
don't  bear  her  any  grudge,"  she  thought. 

"  Ha'n't  you  got  nothing  ?  "  said  Nancy,  coming 
up  presently ;  "  that  wasn't  your'n  that  you  gave 
me,  was  it  ?  " 

Ellen  nodded  smilingly. 

"  Well,  there  ain't  no  more  of  it,"  said  Nancy. 
*'  The  bowl  is  empty." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Why,  didn't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Yes — very  much." 

"  Why,  you're  a  queer  little  fish,"  said  Nancy. 
u  What  did  you  get  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  let  me  in 
for?" 

"  How  did  you  know  I  did  ?  " 

"  'Cause  he  told  me.  Say — what  did  you  do  it 
for  ?  Mr.  Dennison,  won't  you  give  Ellen  a  piece 
of  cake  or  something  ?  Here — take  this,"  said 
Nancy,  pouncing  upon  a  glass  of  egg-nogg  which  a 
gap  in  the  company  enabled  her  to  reach  ;  "  I  made 
it  more  than  half  myself.     Ain't  it  good  ? " 

"  Yes,  very,"   said   Ellen,  smacking   her  lips  ;— 
"  what's  in  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  plenty  of  good  things.  But  what  made  you 
ask  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  let  me  stop  to-night  ? — you 
didn't  tell  me — did  you  want  me  to  stay  ? " 


420  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.    ' 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Ellen  ;  "don't  ask  me  any 
questions." 

"  Yes,  but  I  will  though,  and  you've  got  to 
answer  me.  Why  did  you  ?  Come  ! — do  you  like 
me  ? — say  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  you,  I  dare  say,  if  you  would  be 
different." 

"Well,  I  don't  care,"  said  Nancy,  after  a  little 
pause, — "  I  like  you,  though  you're  as  queer  as  you 
can  be.  I  don't  care  whether  you  like  me  or  not. 
Look  here,  Ellen,  that  cake  there  is  the  best — I 
know  it  is,  for  I've  tried  'em  all. — You  know  I  told 
Van  Brunt  I  would  tell  him  what  you  were  crying 
about?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  asked  you  not.     Did  you  ? " 

Nancy  nodded,  being  at  the  moment  still  further 
engaged  in  "  trying  "  the  cake. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did.     What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  didn't  say  much  to  me — somebody  else  will 
hear  of  it,  I  guess.  He  was  mad  about  it,  or  I  am 
mistaken.     What    makes  you  sorry  ?  " 

"  It  will  only  do  harm  and  make  Aunt  Fortune 
angry." 

"  Well,  that's  just  what  I  should  like  if  I  were 
you.     I  can't  make  you  out." 

"  I'd  a  great  deal  rather  have  her  like  me,''  said 
Ellen.  "  Was  she  vexed  when  grandma  came 
down  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  she  had  to  keep  it  to  herself 
if  she  was  ;  everybody  else  was  so  glad,  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  made  such  a  fuss.  Just  look  at  the  old 
lady,  how  pleased  she  is.  I  declare  if  the  folks 
ain't  talking  of  going  !  Come,  Ellen  !  now  for  the 
cloaks  !  you  and  me  '11  finish  our  supper  after- 
wards." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  421 

That,  however,  was  not  to  be.  Nancy  was  offered 
a  ride  home  to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  and  a  lodging 
there.  They  were  ready  cloaked  and  shawled,  and 
Ellen  was  still  hunting  for  Miss  Janet's  things  in 
the  moonlit  hall,  when  she  heard  Nancy  close  by, 
in  a  lower  tone  than  common,  say, 

"Ellen,  will  you  kiss  me  ?  " 

Ellen  dropped  her  armful  of  things,  and  taking 
Nancy's  hands,  gave  her  truly  the  kiss  of  peace. 

When  she  went  up  to  undress  for  the  second  time 
she  found  on  her  bed — her  letter !  And  with  tears 
Ellen  kneeled  down  and  gave  earnest  thanks  for 
this  blessing,  and  that  she  had  been  able  to  gain 
Nancy's  good-will. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

He  was  a  gentleman  on  whom  I  built  an  absolute  trust. 

Macbeth. 

It  was  Tuesday,  the  2 2d  of  December,  and  late  in 
the  day.  Not  a  pleasant  afternoon.  The  gray 
snow-clouds  hung  low  ;  the  air  was  keen  and  raw. 
It  was  already  growing  dark,  and  Alice  was  sitting- 
alone  in  the  firelight,  when  two  little  feet  came 
running  round  the  corner  of  the  house  ;  the  glass 
door  opened  and  Ellen  rushed  in. 

"  I  have  come !  I  have  come  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  dear  Alice  !  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

So  was  Alice,  if  her  kiss  meant  anything. 

"  But  how  late,  my  child  ! — how  late  you  are  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I  never  was  going  to  get  done,'* 
said  Ellen,  pulling  off  her  things   in  a  great  hurry 
and  throwing  them  on  the  sofa, — "  but  I  am  here 
at  last.     Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  " 


422  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Why,  what  has  been  the  matter  ?  "  said  Alice, 
folding  up  what  Ellen  laid  down. 

"  Oh,  a  great  deal  of  matter — I  couldn't  think 
what  Nancy  meant  last  night — I  know  very  well  now. 
I  sha'n't  want  to  see  any  more  apples  all  winter. 
What  do  you  think  I  have  been  about  all  to-day, 
dear  Miss  Alice  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  has  done  you  much  harm,"  said 
Alice,  smiling, — "  if  I  am  to  guess  from  your  looks. 
You  are  as  rosy  as  a   good    Spitzenberg   yourself." 

"That's  very  funny,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "for 
Aunt  Fortune  said  a  while  ago  that  my  cheeks  were 
just  the  color  of  two  mealy  potatoes." 

"  But  about  the  apples  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  Why,  this  morning  I  was  thinking  I  would 
come  here  so  early,  when  the  first  thing  I  knew 
Aunt  Fortune  brought  out  all  those  heaps  and 
heaps  of  apples  into  the  kitchen,  and  made  me  sit 
down  on  the  floor,  and  then  she  gave  me  a  great 
big  needle  and  set  me  to  stringing  them  all  together, 
and  as  fast  as  I  strung  them  she  hung  them  up  all 
round  the  ceiling.  I  tried  very  hard  to  get  through 
before,  but  I  could  not,  and  I  am  so  tired !  I 
thought  I  never  should  get  to  the  bottom  of  that 
big  basket." 

"  Never  mind,  love — come  to  the  fire — we'll  try 
and  forget  all  disagreeable  things  while  we  are 
together." 

"  I  have  forgotten  it  almost  already,"  said  Ellen, 
as  she  sat  down  in  Alice's  lap  and  laid  her  face 
against  hers ; — "  I  don't  care  for  it  at  all  now." 

But  her  cheeks  were  fast  fading  into  the  un- 
comfortable color  Miss  Fortune  had  spoken  of ; 
and  weariness  and  weakness  kept  her   for    a   while 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  423 

quiet  in  Alice's  arms,  overcoming  even  the  pleas- 
ure of  talking.  They  sat  so  till  the  clock  struck 
half-past  five  ;  then  Alice  proposed  they  should  go 
into  the  kitchen  and  see  Margery,  and  order  the 
tea  made,  which  she  had  no  doubt  Ellen  wanted. 
Margery  welcomed  her  with  great  cordiality.  She 
liked  anybody  that  Alice  liked,  but  she  had  besides 
declared  to  her  husband  that  Ellen  was  "  an  un- 
common well-behaved  child."  She  said  she  would 
put  the  tea  to  draw,  and  they  should  have  it  in  a 
very  few  minutes. 

"  But,  Miss  Alice,  there's  an  Irish  body  out  by, 
waiting  to  speak  to  you.  I  was  just  coming  in  to 
tell  you ;  will  you  please  to  see  her  now  ?  " 

"  Certainly — let  her  come  in.  Is  she  in  the  cold, 
Margery  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Alice — there's  a  fire  there  this  even- 
ing.    I'll  call  her." 

The  woman  came  up  from  the  lower  kitchen  at 
the  summons.  She  was  young,  rather  pretty,  and 
with  a  pleasant  countenance,  but  unwashed,  un- 
combed, untidy, — no  wonder  Margery's  nicety  had 
shrunk  from  introducing  her  into  her  spotless  upper 
kitchen.  The  unfailing  Irish  cloak  was  drawn 
about  her,  the  hood  brought  over  her  head,  and  on 
the  head  and  shoulders  the  snow  lay  white,  not  yet 
melted  away. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,  my  friend  ?  "said 
Alice,  pleasantly. 

"  If  ye  plase,  ma'am,  it's  the  master  I'm  wanting," 
said  the  woman,  dropping  a  curtsey. 

"  My  father  ?     Margery,  will  you  tell  him  ?  " 

Margery  departed. 

"  Come  nearer  the  fire,"  said  Alice, — "  and  sit 


424  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

down ;  my  father  will   be   here   presently.     It  is 
snowing  again,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  It  is,  ma'am ; — a  bitter  storm." 

"  Have  you  come  far  ? " 

"  It's  a  good  bit,  my  lady — it's  more  nor  a  mile 
beyant  Carra — just  right  forgin  the  ould  big  hill 
they  call  the  Catchback ; — in  Jemmy  Morrison's 
woods — where  Pat  M'Farren's  clearing  is — it's 
there  I  live,  my  lady." 

"  That  is  a  long  distance,  indeed,  for  a  walk  in 
the  snow,"  said  Alice,  kindly ;  "  sit  down,  and 
come  nearer  the  fire.  Margery  will  give  you 
something  to  refresh  you." 

"  I  thank  ye,  my  lady,  but  I  want  nothing  man 
can  give  me  the  night ;  and  when  one's  on  an 
arrant  of  life  and  death,  it's  little  the  cold  or  the 
storm  can  do  to  put  out  the  heart's  fire." 

"  Life  and  death  ? — who  is  sick  ? "  said  Alice. 

"  It's  my  own  child,  ma'am, — my  own  boy — all 
the  child  I  have — and  I'll  have  none  by  the  morn- 
ing light." 

"Is  he  so  ill  ?  "  said  Alice  ;  "  what  is  the  matter 
with  him  ? " 

"  Myself  doesn't  know." 

The  voice  was  fainter ;  the  brown  cloak  was 
drawn  over  her  face  ;  and  Alice  and  Ellen  saw  her 
shoulders  heaving  with  the  grief  she  kept  from 
bursting  out.     They  exchanged  glances. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Alice  again  presently,  laying 
her  hand  upon  the  wet  shoulder  ; — "  sit  down  and 
rest ;  my  father  will  be  here  directly.  Margery — • 
oh,  that's  right, — a  cup  of  tea  will  do  her  good 
What  do  you  want  of  my  father  ? " 

"  The  Lord  bless  ye !— I'll  tell  you,  my  lady." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


425 


She  drank  off  the  tea,  but  refused  something 
more  substantial  that  Margery  offered  her. 

"  The  Lord  bless  ye !  I  couldn't.  My  lady, 
there  wasn't  a  stronger,  nor  a  prettier,  nor  a  swater 
child,  nor  couldn't  be,  nor  he  was  when  we  left  it 
— it'll  be  three  years  come  the  fifteenth  of  April 
next ;  but  I'm  thinking  the  bitter  winters  o'  this 
cowld  country  has  chilled  the  life  out  o'  him, — and 
troubles  cowlder  than  all,"  she  added,  in  a  lower 
tone.  "  I  seed  him  grow  waker  an'  waker  an'  his 
daar  face  grow  thinner  an'  thinner,  and  the  red  all 
left  it,  only  two  burning  spots  was  on  it  some  days  ; 
an'  I  worried  the  life  out  o'  me  for  him,  an'  all  I 
could  do  I  couldn't  do  nothing  at  all  to  help  him, 
but  he  just  growed  waker  an'  waker.  I  axed  the 
father  wouldn't  he  see  the  doctor  about  him,  but 
he's  an'  asy  kind  o'  man,  my  lady,  an'  he  said  he 
would,  an'  he  never  did  to  this  day ;  an'  John  he 
always  said  it  was  no  use  sinding  for  the  doctor, 
an'  looked  so  swate  at  me,  an'  said  for  me  not  to 
fret,  for  sure  he'd  be  better  soon,  or  he'd  go  to  a 
better  place.  An'  I  thought  he  was  like  a  heavenly 
angel  itself  already,  an'  always  was,  but  then  more 
nor  ever.  Och  !  it's  soon  that  he'll  be  one  entirely  ! 
— let  Father  Shannon  say  what  he  will." 

She  sobbed  for  a  minute,  while  Alice  and  Ellen 
looked  on,  silent  and  pitying. 

"  An'  to-night,  my  lady,  he's  very  bad,"  she 
went  on,  wiping  away  the  tears  that  came  quickly 
again, — "  an'  I  seed  he  was  going  fast  from  me, 
an'  I  was  breaking  my  heart  wid  the  loss  of  him, 
whin  I  heard  one  of  the  men  that  was  in  it  say, 
*  What's  this  he's  saying  ? '  says  he.  '  An'  what  is 
it    thin  ?  *   says    I.     *  About   the    jantleman    that 


426  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

praaches  at  Carra,'  says  he, — '  he's  a  calling  fot 
him,'  says  he.  I  knowed  there  wasn't  a  praast  at 
all  at  Carra,  an'  I  thought  he  was  draaming,  or  out 
o'  his  head,  or  crazy  wid  his  sickness,  like ;  an*  I 
went  up  close  to  him,  an'  says  I,  '  John,'  says  I, 
'what  is  it  you  want,'  says  I, — '  an'  sure  if  it's  any- 
thing in  heaven  above  or  in  earth  beneath  that  yer 
own  mother  can  get  for  ye,'  says  I, — '  ye  shall  have 
it,'  says  I.  An'  he  put  up  his  two  arms  to  my 
neck  an'  pulled  my  face  down  to  his  lips,  that  was 
hot  wid  the  faver,  an'  kissed  me — he  did — an' 
Says  he,  'Mother  daar,'  says  he, — <  if  ye  love  me,' 
says  he,  ■  fetch  me  the  good  jantleman  that  praaches 
at  Carra  till  I  spake  to  him.'  f  Is  it  the  praast  you 
■want,  John,  my  boy  ? '  says  I, — '  sure,  he's  in  it/ 
says  I ; — for  Michael  had  been  for  Father  Shannon,, 
an'  he  had  come  home  wid  him  half  an  hour  be- 
fore. '  Oh,  no,  mother,'  says  he,  f  it's  not  him  at 
all  that  I  maan — it's  the  jantleman  that  spakes  in 
the  little  white  church  at  Carra, — he's  not  a  praast 
at  all,'  says  he,  f.  An'  who  is  he,  thin  ? '  says  I, 
getting  up  from  the  bed,  'or  where  will  I  find  him,, 
or  how  will  I  get  to  him  ? '  '  Ye'll  not  stir  a  fut 
for  him,  thin,  the  night,  Kitty  Dolan,'  says  my 
husband, — '  are  ye  mad  ? '  says  he  ;  '  sure  it's  not 
his  own  head  the  child  has  at  all  at  all,  or  it's  a 
little  hiritic  he  is,'  says  he  ;  '  an'  ye  won't  show  the 
disrespect  to  the  praast  in  yer  own  house.'  '  I'm 
maaning  none,'  says  I, — '  nor  more  he  isn't  a  hiritic, 
but  if  he  was,  he's  a  born  angel  to  you,  Michael 
Dolan,  anyhow,'  says  I ;  'an'  wid  the  kiss  of  his 
lips  on  my  face,  wouldn't  I  do  the  arrant  of  my 
own  boy,  an'  he  a  dying  ?  by  the  blessing,  an'  I 
Will,  if  twenty  men   stud  between  me  an'  it.     So 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  427 

tell  me  where  I'll  find  him,  this  praast,  if  there's 
the  love  o'  mercy  in  any  sowl  o'  ye,'  says  I.  But 
they  wouldn't  spake  a  word  for  me,  not  one  of 
them ;  so  I  axed  an'  axed  at  one  place  an'  other, 
till  here  I  am.  An'  now,  my  lady,  will  the  master 
go  for  me  to  my  poor  boy  ? — for  he'd  maybe  be 
dead  while  I  stand  here." 

"  Surely  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Humphreys,  who  had 
come  in  while  she  was  speaking.  "  Wait  but  one 
moment." 

In  a  moment  he  came  back  ready,  and  he  and 
the  woman  set  forth  to  their  walk.  Alice  looked 
out  anxiously  after  them. 

"  It  storms  very  hard,"  she  said, — "  and  he  has 
not  had  his  tea!  But  he  couldn't  wait.  Come, 
Ellen  love,  we'll  have  ours.  How  will  he  ever  get 
back  again  ? — it  will  be  so  deep  by  that  time." 

There  was  a  cloud  on  her  fair  brow  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  it  passed  away,  and  quiet  and  calm  as 
ever,  she  sat  down  at  the  little  tea-table  with  Ellen. 
From  her  face  all  shadows  seemed  to  have  flown  for- 
ever. Hungry  and  happy,  she  enjoyed  Margery's 
good  bread  and  butter,  and  the  nice  honey,  and  from 
time  to  time  cast  very  bright  looks  at  the  dear  face 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  which  could  not 
help  looking  bright  in  reply.  Ellen  was  well 
pleased  for  her  part,  that  the  third  seat  was  empty. 
But  Alice  looked  thoughtful  sometimes,  as  a  gust 
of  wind  swept  by,  and  once  or  twice  went  to  the 
window. 

After  tea  Alice  took  out  her  work,  and  Ellen 
put  herself  contentedly  down  on  the  rug,  and  sat 
leaning  back  against  her.  Silent  for  very  content- 
ment for  a  while,  she  sat  looking  gravely  into  the 


428  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

fire ;  while  Alice's  ringers  drove  a  little  steel  hook 
through  and  through  some  purse  silk  in  a  myste- 
rious fashion  that  no  eye  could  be  quick  enough  to 
follow,  and  with  such  skill  and  steadiness  that  the 
work  grew  fast  under  her  hand. 

"  I  had  such  a  funny  dream  last  night,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Did  you  ? — what  about  ?  " 

H  It  was  pleasant,  too,"  said  Ellen,  twisting  her- 
self round  to  talk, — "  but  very  queer.  I  dreamed 
about  that  gentleman  that  was  so  kind  to  me  on 
board  the  boat — you  know  ? — I  told  you  about 
him  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  Well,  I  dreamed  of  seeing  him,  somewhere,  I 
don't  know  where, — and  he  didn't  look  a  bit  like 
himself,  only  I  knew  who  it  was ;  and  I  thought  I 
didn't  like  to  speak  to  him,  for  fear  he  wouldn't 
know  me,  but  then  I  thought  he  did,  and  came  up 
and  took  my  hand  and  seemed  so  glad  to  see  me  ; 
and  asked  me  if  I  had  been  pious  since  he  saw  me." 

Ellen  stopped  to  laugh. 

"  And  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  yes.  And  then  I  thought  he  seemed 
so  very  pleased." 

"  Dreamers  do  not  always  keep  close  to  the  truth, 
it  seems." 

"  I  didn't,"  said  Ellen.  "  But  then  I  thought  I 
had,  in  my  dream." 

"  Had  what  ?— kept  close  to  the  truth  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ; — been  what  he  said." 

"  Dreams  are  queer  things,"  said  Alice. 

"I  have  been  far  enough  from  being  good  to> 
day,"  said  Ellen,  thoughtfully. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  429 

"  How  so,  my  dear  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Alice — because  I  never  am 
good,  I  suppose." 

"  But  what  has  been  the  matter  to-day  ?  " 

"  Why,  those  apples  !  I  thought  I  would  come  here 
so  early,  and  then  when  I  found  I  must  do  all  those 
baskets  of  apples  first,  I  was  very  ill-humored  ;  and 
Aunt  Fortune  saw  I  was  and  said  something  that 
made  me  worse.  And  I  tried  as  hard  as  I  could  to 
get  through  before  dinner,  and  when  I  found  I 
couldn't,  I  said  I  wouldn't  come  to  dinner,  but  she 
made  me,  and  that  vexed  me  more,  and  I  wouldn't 
eat  scarcely  anything,  and  then  when  I  got  back  to 
the  apples  again  I  sewed  so  hard  that  I  ran  the 
needle  into  my  finger  ever  so  far,— see  there  ? — 
what  a  mark  it  left  ? — and  Aunt  Fortune  said  it 
served  me  right  and  she  was  glad  of  it,  and  that 
made  me  angry.  I  knew  I  was  wrong,  afterwards, 
and  I  was  very  sorry.  Isn't  it  strange,  dear  Alice, 
I  should  do  so  when  I  have  resolved  so  hard  I 
wouldn't?" 

"  Not  very,  my  darling,  as  long  as  we  have  such 
evil  hearts  as  ours  are — it  is  strange  they  should  be 
so  evil." 

"  I  told  Aunt  Fortune  afterwards  I  was  sorry, 
but  she  said  •  actions  speak  louder  than  words,  and 
words  are  cheap.'  If  she  only  wouldn't  say  that 
just  as  she  does  !  it  does  worry  me  so." 

"  Patience  !  "  said  Alice,  passing  her  hand  over 
Ellen's  hair  as  she  sat  looking  sorrowfully  up  at 
her ; — "  you  must  try  not  to  give  her  occasion. 
Never  mind  what  she  says,  and  overcome  evil  with 
good." 

"  That  is  just  what  mamma  said !  "  exclaimed 


^o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen,  rising  to  throw  her  arms  round  Alice's  neck 
and  kissing  her  with  all  the  energy  of  love,  grati* 
tude,  repentance,  and  sorrowful  recollection. 

"  Oh,  what  do  you  think  !  "  she  said,  suddenly, 
her  face  changing  again, — "  I  got  my  letter  last 
night!" 

"  Your  letter  !  " 

"  Yes,  the  letter  the  old  man  brought — don't  you 
know  ? — and  it  was  written  on  the  ship,  and  there 
was  only  a  little  bit  from  mamma,  and  a  little  bit 
from  papa,  but  so  good  !  Papa  says  she  is  a  great 
deal  better,  and  he  has  no  doubt  he  will  bring  her 
back  in  the  spring  or  summer  quite  well  again. 
Isn't  that  good  ?  " 

"Very  good,  dear  Ellen.  I  am  very  glad  for 
you." 

"  It  was  on  my  bed  last  night.  I  can't  think  how 
it  got  there, — and  I  don't  care  either,  so  long  as  I 
have  got  it.     What  are  you  making  ?  " 

"  A  purse,"  said  Alice,  laying  it  on  the  table  for 
her  inspection. 

"  It  will  be  very  pretty.  Is  the  other  end  to  be 
like  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  these  tassels  to  finish  them  oif." 

"  Oh,  that's  beautiful,"  said  Ellen,  laying  them 
down  to  try  the  effect ; — "  and  these  rings  to  fasten 
it  with.     Is  it  black?" 

"  No,  dark  green.  I  am  making  it  for  my  brother 
John." 

"  A  Christmas  present !  "  exclaimed  Ellen. 

"  I  am  afraid  not ;  he  will  hardly  be  here  by  that 
time.     It  may  do  for  New  Year. " 

"  How  pleasant  it  must  be  to  make  Christmas 
and  New  Year  presents  !  "  said  Ellen,  after  she  had 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  4^1 

watched  Alice's  busy  fingers  for  a  few  minutes. 
"  I  wish  I  could  make  something  for  somebody. 
Oh,  I  wonder  if  I  couldn't  make  something  for  Mr. 
Van  Brunt !     Oh,  I  should  like  to  very  much." 

Alice  smiled  at  Ellen's  very  wide-open  eyes. 

"  What  could  you  make  for  him  ? " 

"  I  don't  know — that's  the  thing.  He  keeps  his 
money  in  his  pocket, — and  besides,  I  don't  know 
how  to  make  purses." 

"  There  are  other  things  besides  purses.  How 
would  a  watch-guard  do  ?    Does  he  wear  a  watch  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  does  or  not;  he 
doesn't  every  day,  I  am  sure,  but  I  don't  know 
about  Sundays." 

"  Then  we  won't  venture  upon  that.  You  might 
knit  him  a  night-cap." 

"  A  night-cap  ! — You're  joking,  Alice,  aren't  you  ? 
I  don't  think  a  night-cap  would  be  pretty  for  a 
Christmas  present,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  do,  Ellen  ? "  said  Alice, 
laughing.  "  I  made  a  pocket-pincushion  for  papa 
once  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  but  I  fancy  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  would  not  know  exactly  what  use  to  make  of 
such  a  convenience.  I  don't  think  you  could  fail 
to  please  him,  though,  with  anything  you  should  hit 
upon." 

"  I  have  got  a  dollar,"  said  Ellen,  u  to  buy  stuff 
with  ;  it  came  in  my  letter  last  night.  If  I  only 
knew  what  !  " 

Down  she  went  on  the  rug  again,  and  Alice 
worked  in  silence,  while  Ellen's  thoughts  ran  over 
every  possible  and  impossible  article  of  Mr.  Van 
Brunt's  dress. 

"  I  have  some    nice  pieces    of  fine  linen,"  said 


432  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD, 

Alice  ;  "  suppose  I  cut  out  a  collar  for  him,  and  you 
can  make  it  and  stitch  it,  and  then  Margery  will 
starch  and  iron  it  for  you,  all  ready  to  give  to  him. 
How  will  that  do  ?     Can  you  stitch  well  enough  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  guess  I  can,"  said  Ellen.  "  Oh, 
thank  you,  dear  Alice !  you  are  the  best  help  that 
ever  was.     Will  he  like  that,  do  you  think?" 

"  I  am  sure  he  will — very  much." 

"  Then  that  will  do  nicely,"  said  Ellen,  much 
relieved.  "  And  now  what  do  you  think  about 
Nancy's  Bible  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,  only  that  I  am  afraid 
Nancy  would  either  sell  it  for  something  else,  or 
let  it  go  to  destruction  very  quickly.  I  never  heard 
of  her  spending  five  minutes  over  a  book,  and  the 
Bible,  I  am  afraid,  least  of  all." 

"  But  I  think,"  said  Ellen,  slowly,  "  I  think  she 
would  not  spoil  it  or  sell  it  either,  if  I  gave  it  to 
her." 

And  she  told  Alice  about  Nancy's  asking  for  the 
kiss  last  night. 

"  That's  the  most  hopeful  thing  I  have  heard 
about  Nancy  for  a  long  time,"  said  Alice.  "  We 
will  get  her  the  Bible  by  all  means,  my  dear, — a 
nice  one, — and  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  persuade 
her  to  read  it." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  went  to  the  glass 
door.  Ellen  followed  her,  and  they  looked  out 
into  the  night.  It  was  very  dark.  She  opened  the 
door  a  moment,  but  the  wind  drove  the  snow  into 
their  faces,  and  they  were  glad  to  shut  it  again. 

"  It's  almost  as  bad  as  the  night  we  were  out, 
isn't  it  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Not  such  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  I  think,  but  it  is 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  433 

very  windy  and  cold.  Papa  will  be  late  getting 
home." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  worried,  dear  Alice." 

"  I  am  not  much  worried,  love.  I  have  often 
known  papa  out  late  before,  but  this  is  rather  a 
hard  night  for  a  long  walk.  Come,  we'll  try  to  make 
a  good  use  of  the  time  while  we  are  waiting.  Sup- 
pose you  read  to  me  while  I  work." 

She  took  down  a  volume  of  Cowper  and  found 
his  account  of  the  three  pet  hares.  Ellen  read  it, 
and  then  several  of  his  smaller  pieces  of  poetry. 
Then  followed  a  long  talk  about  hares  and  other 
animals  ;  about  Cowper  and  his  friends  and  his 
way  of  life.  Time  passed  swiftly  away ;  it  was  get- 
ting late. 

"  How  weary  papa  will  be,"  said  Alice  ;  "  he  has 
had  nothing  to  eat  since  dinner.  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do,  Ellen,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  threw  her 
work  down,  "  we'll  make  some  chocolate  for  him — ■ 
that'll  be  the  very  thing.  Ellen  dear,  run  in  to  the 
kitchen  and  ask  Margery  to  bring  me  the  little 
chocolate  pot  and  a  pitcher  of  night's  milk." 

Margery  brought  them.  The  pot  was  set  on  the 
coals,  and  Alice  had  cut  up  the  chocolate  that  it 
might  melt  the  quicker.  Ellen  watched  it  with  great 
interest,  till  it  was  melted,  and  the  boiling  water 
stirred  in,  and  the  whole  was  simmering  quietly  on 
the  coals. 

"  Is  it  done  now  ?  " 

"  No,  it  must  boil  a  little  while,  and  then  the 
milk  must  be  put  in,  and  when  that  has  boiled,  the 
eggs — and  then  it  will  be  done." 

With  Margery  and  the  chocolate  pot  the  cat 
had  walked  in.  Ellen  immediately  endeavored  to 
28 


434  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

improve  his  acquaintance ;  that  was  not  so  easy. 
The  Captain  chose  the  corner  of  the  rug  furthest 
from  her,  in  spite  of  all  her  calling  and  coaxing, 
paying  her  no  more  attention  than  if  he  had  not 
heard  her.  Ellen  crossed  over  to  him  and  began  most 
tenderly  and  respectfully  to  stroke  his  head  and 
back,  touching  his  soft  fur  with  great  care.  Parry 
presently  lifted  up  his  head  uneasily,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  I  wonder  how  long  this  is  going  to  last," 
and  finding  there  was  every  prospect  of  its  lasting 
some  time,  he  fairly  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the 
other  end  of  the  rug.  Ellen  followed  him  and  tried 
again,  with  exactly  the  same  effect. 

"  Well,  cat !  you  aren't  very  kind,"  said  she  at 
length  ; — "  Alice,  he  won't  let  me  have  anything  to 
do  with  him  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  dear,  he  is  so  unsociable  ;  he  is 
a  cat  of  very  bad  taste — that  is  all  I  can  say." 

"  But  I  never  saw  such  a  cat ! — he  won't  let  me 
touch  him  ever  so  softly  ;  he  lifts  up  his  head  and 
looks  as  cross  ! — and  then  walks  off." 

"  He  don't  know  you  yet,  and  truth  is,  Parry  has 
no  fancy  for  extending  the  circle  of  his  acquaint- 
ance. Oh,  kitty,  kitty  !  "  said  Alice,  fondly  strok- 
ing his  head,  "  why  don't  you  behave  better  ?  " 

Parry  lifted  his  head,  and  opened  and  shut  his 
eyes,  with  an  expression  of  great  satisfaction  very 
different  from  that  he  had  bestowed  on  Ellen. 
Ellen  gave  him  up  for  the  present  as  a  hopeless 
case,  and  turned  her  attention  to  the  chocolate, 
which  had  now  received  the  milk  and  must  be 
watched  lest  it  should  run  over,  which  Alice  said 
it  would  very  easily  do  when  once  it  began  to  boil 
again.      Meanwhile   Ellen    wanted   to   know   what 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD..  435 

chocolate  was  made  of — where  it  came  from-^ 
where  it  was  made  best, — burning  her  little  face  in 
the  fire  all  the  time  lest  the  pot  should  boil  over 
while  she  was  not  looking.  At  last  the  chocolate 
began  to  gather  a  rich  froth,  and  Ellen  called  out, 

"  Oh,  Alice  !  look  here  quick  !  here's  the  shape. 
of  the  spoon  on  the  top  of  the  chocolate ! — do  look. 
at  it." 

An  iron  spoon  was  in  the  pot,  and  its  shape  was 
distinctly  raised  on  the  smooth  frothy  surface.  As 
they  were  both  bending  forward  to  watch  it,  Alice 
waiting  to  take  the  pot  off  the  moment  it  began  to> 
boil,  Ellen  heard  a  slight  click  of  the  lock  of  the 
door,  and  turning  her  head  was  a  little  startled  to* 
see  a  stranger  there,  standing  still  at  the  far  end  of 
the  room.  She  touched  Alice's  arm  without  look- 
ing round.  But  Alice  started  to  her  feet  with  a. 
slight  scream,  and  in  another  minute  had  thrown- 
her  arms  round  the  stranger  and  was  locked  in  his. 
Ellen  knew  what  it  meant  now  very  well.  She 
turned  away  as  if  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  what 
was  going  on  there,  and  lifted  the  pot  of  chocolate 
off  the  fire  with  infinite  difficulty ;  but  it  was  going 
to  boil  over,  and  she  would  have  broken  her  back 
rather  than  not  do  it.  And  then  she  stood  with 
her  back  to  the  brother  and  sister,  looking  into  the 
fire,  as  if  she  was  determined  not  to  see  them  till 
she  couldn't  help  it.  But  what  she  was  thinking 
of,  Ellen  could  not  have  told,  then  or  afterward.  It 
was  but  a  few  minutes,  though  it  seemed  to  her  a. 
great  many,  before  they  drew  near  the  fire.  Curi- 
osity began  to  be  strong,  and  she  looked  round  to 
see  if  the  new-comer  was  like  Alice.  No,  not  a  bit, 
— how  different ! — darker  hair  and  eyes — not  a  bifr 


436  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

like  her ;  handsome  enough,  too,  to  be  her  brother. 
And  Alice  did  not  look  like  herself ;  her  usually 
calm  sweet  face  was  quivering  and  sparkling  now, 
. — lit  up  as  Ellen  had  never  seen  it, — oh,  how  bright ! 
Poor  Ellen  herself  had  never  looked  duller  in  her 
life  ;  and  when  Alice  said,  gayly,  "  This  is  my 
brother,  Ellen,"  her  confusion  of  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings resolved  themselves  into  a  flood  of  tears  ;  she 
sprang  and  hid  her  face  in  Alice's  arms. 

Ellen's  were  not  the  only  eyes  that  were  full  just 
then,  but  of  course  she  didn't  know  that. 

"  Come,  Ellen,"  whispered  Alice,  prseently,  "look 
up  ! — what  kind  of  a  welcome  is  this  ? — come  ! — we 
have  no  business  with  tears  just  now, — won't  you 
run  into  the  kitchen  for  me,  love,"  she  added,  more 
low,  "  and  ask  Margery  to  bring  some  bread  and 
butter,  and  anything  else  she  has  that  is  fit  for  a 
traveler  ?  " 

Glad  of  an  escape,  Ellen  darted  away  that  her 
wet  face  might  not  be  seen.  The  brother  and 
sister  were  busily  talking  when  she  returned. 

"  John,"  said  Alice,  "  this  is  my  little  sister  that  I 
•wrote  you  about — Ellen  Montgomery.  Ellen,  this 
is  your  brother  as  well  as  mine,  you  know." 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  said  her  brother.  "  Miss  Ellen, 
this  sister  of  mine  is  giving  us  away  to  each  other 
at  a  great  rate, — I  should  like  to  know  first  what 
you  say  to  it.  Are  you  willing  to  take  a  strange 
brother  upon  her  recommendation  ?  " 

Half  inclined  to  laugh,  Ellen  glanced  at  the 
speaker's  face,  but  meeting  the  grave  though  some- 
what comical  look  of  two  very  keen  eyes,  she  looked 
down  again,  and  merely  answered  "  Yes." 

M  Then,  if  I  am  to  be  your  brother,  you  must  give 


THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 


437 


me  a  brother's  right,  you  know,"  said  he,  drawing 
her  gently  to  him,  and  kissing  her  gravely  on  the 
lips. 

Probably  Ellen  thought  there  was  a  difference 
between  John  Humphreys  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  or 
the  young  gentlemen  of  the  apple-paring  ;  for  though 
she  colored  a  good  deal,  she  made  no  objection  and 
showed  no  displeasure.  Alice  and  she  now  busied 
themselves  with  getting  the  cups  and  saucers  out 
of  the  cupboard,  and  setting  the  table  ;  but  all  that 
evening,  through  whatever  was  doing,  Ellen's  eyes 
sought  the  stranger  as  if  by  fascination.  She 
watched  him  whenever  she  could  without  being 
noticed.  At  first  she  was  in  doubt  what  to  think 
of  him  ;  she  was  quite  sure  from  that  one  look  into 
his  eyes  that  he  was  a  person  to  be  feared  ; — there 
was  no  doubt  of  that ;  as  to  the  rest  she  didn't 
know. 

:  And  what  have  my  two  sisters  been  doing  to 
spend  the  evening  ?  "  said  John  Humphreys,  one 
time  that  Alice  was  gone  into  the  kitchen  on  some 
kind  errand  for  him. 

"  Talking,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  doubtfully. 

"  Talking  !  this  whole  evening  ?  Alice  must 
have  improved.  What  have  you  been  talking 
about  ?  " 

"  Hares — and  dogs — and  about  Mr.  Cowper — 
and  some  other  things " 

"  Private  affairs,  eh  ?  "  said  he,  with  again  the 
look  Ellen  had  seen  before. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  nodding  and  laughing. 

"  And  how  came  you  upon  Mr.  Cowper  ?  " 

"  Sir  ?  " 

"  How  came  you  to  be  talking  about  Mr.  Cow- 
per  ? " 


438  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  was  reading  about  his  hares,  and  about  John 
Gilpin ;  and  then  Alice  told  me  about  Mr.  Cowper 
and  his  friends." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  after  all  that  you  have  had 
a  pleasanter  evening  than  I  have  had,"  said  her 
questioner,  "  though  I  have  been  riding  hard,  with 
the  cold  wind  in  my  face,  and  the  driving  snow  do- 
ing all  it  could  to  discomfit  me.  I  have  had  this 
very  bright  fireside  before  me  all  the  way." 

He  fell  into  a  fit  of  grave  musing  which  lasted 
till  Alice  came  in.  Then  suddenly  fell  a-fumbling 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Here's  a  note  for  you,"  said  he,  throwing  it  into 
her  lap. 

"  A  note  ! — Sophia  Marshman  ! — where  did  you 
get  it?" 

"  From  her  own  hand.  Passing  there  to-day,  I 
thought  I  must  stop  a  moment  to  speak  to  them, 
and  had  no  notion  of  doing  more  ;  but  Mrs.  Marsh- 
man  was  very  kind,  and  Miss  Sophia  in  despair,  so 
the  end  of  it  was  I  dismounted,  and  went  in  to 
await  the  preparing  of  that  billet,  while  my  poor 
nag  was  led  off  to  the  stables  and  afresh  horse  sup- 
plied me, — I  fancy  that  tells  you  on  what  condi- 
tions." 

"  Charming  !  "  said  Alice, — "  to  spend  Christmas, 
— I  am  very  glad ;  I  should  like  to  very  much — 
with  you,  dear.  If  I  can  only  get  papa — but  I 
think  he  will  ;  it  will  do  him  a  great  deal  of  good. 
To-morrow,  she  says,  we  must  come  ;  but  I  doubt 
the  weather  will  not  let  us  ;  we  shall  see." 

"  I  rode  Prince  Charlie  down.  He  is  a  good 
traveler,  and  the  sleighing  will  be  fine  if  the  snow 
be  not  too  deep.  The  old  sleigh  is  in  being  yet,  J 
suppose  ? " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  439 

"  Oh,  yes  !  in  good  order.  Ellen,  what  are  you 
looking  so  grave  about  ?  you  are  going  too." 

"  I ! "  said  Ellen,  a  great  spot  of  crimson  coming 
in  each  cheek. 

"  To  be  sure  ;  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  leave 
you  behind  ? 

"  But " 

"But  what?" 

"  There  won't  be  room." 

"  Room  in  the  sleigh  ?  Then  we'll  put  John  on 
Prince  Charlie,  and  let  him  ride  there,  postilion- 
fashion." 

"  But — Mr.  Humphreys  ?  " 

"  He  always  goes  on  horseback ;  he  will  ride 
Sharp  or  old  John." 

In  great  delight  Ellen  gave  Alice  an  earnest 
kiss  ;  and  then  they  all  gathered  round  the  table 
to  take  their  chocolate,  or  rather  to  see  John  take 
his,  which  his  sister  would  not  let  him. wait  for  any 
longer.  The  storm  had  ceased,  and  through  the 
broken  clouds  the  moon  and  stars  were  looking  out, 
so  they  were  no  more  uneasy  for  Mr.  Humphreys 
and  expected  him  every  moment.  Still  the  supper 
was  begun  and  ended  without  him,  and  they  had 
drawn  round  the  fire  again  before  his  welcome  step 
was  at  last  heard. 

There  was  new  joy  then  ;  new  embracing  and  ques- 
tioning and  answering ;  the  little  circle  opened  to 
let  him  in ;  and  Alice  brought  the  corner  of  the 
table  to  his  side,  and  poured  him  out  a  cup  of  hot 
chocolate.  But,  after  drinking  half  of  it,  and  neg- 
lecting the  eatables  beside  him,  he  sat  with  one 
hand  in  the  other,  his  arm  leaning  on  his  knee,  with 
a  kind  of  softened  gravity  upon  his  countenance. 


440  THE   WIDE*  WIDE  WORLD. 

#  Is  your  chocolate  right,  papa  ?  "    said  Alice  at 

length. 

"  Very  good,  my  daughter  ! " 

He  finished  the  cup,  but  then  went  back  to  his 
old  attitude  and  look.  Gradually  they  ceased  their 
conversation,  and  waited  with  respectful  affection 
and  some  curiosity  for  him  to  speak ;  something  oi 
more  than  common  interest  seemed  to  be  in  his 
thoughts.  He  sat  looking  earnestly  in  the  fire, 
sometimes  with  almost  a  smile  on  his  face,  and 
gently  striking  one  hand  in  the  palm  of  the  other. 
And  sitting  so,  without  moving  or  stirring  his  eyes, 
he  said  at  last,  as  though  the  words  had  been 
forced  from  him,  "  Thanks  be  unto  God  for  His 
unspeakable  gift ! " 

As  he  added  no  more,  Alice  said,  gently,  "What 
have  you  seen  to-night,  papa  ? " 

He  roused  himself  and  pushed  the  empty  cup 
towards  her. 

"  A  little  more,  my  daughter ; — I  have  seen  the 
fairest  sight,  almost,  a  man  can  see  in  this  world. 
I  have  seen  a  little  ransomed  spirit  go  home  to  its 
rest.     Oh,  that  '  unspeakable  gift !  '  " 

He  pressed  his  lips  thoughtfully  together,  while 
he  stirred  his  chocolate  ;  but  having  drunk  it,  he 
pushed  the  table  from  him,  and  drew  up  his  chair. 

"  You  had  a  long  way  to  go,  papa,"  observed 
Alice  again. 

"  Yes — a  long  way  there — I  don't  know  what  it 
was  coming  home ;  I  never  thought  of  it.  How 
independent  the  spirit  can  be  of  externals  !  I 
scarcely  felt  the  storm  to-night." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  his  son. 

"  I  had  a  long  way  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Humphreys ; 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  441 

'  that  poor  woman — that  Mrs.  Dolan — she  lives  ro 
the  woods  behind  the  Cat's  Back,  a  mile  beyond 
Carra-carra,  or  more — it  seemed  a  long  mile  to- 
night and  a  more  miserable  place  I  never  saw  yet. 
A  little  rickety  shanty,  the  storm  was  hardly  kept  out 
of  it,  and  no  appearance  of  comfort  or  nicety  anywhere 
or  in  anything.  There  were  several  men  gathered 
round  the  fire,  and  in  a  corner,  on  a  miserable  kind 
of  bed,  I  saw  the  sick  child.  His  eye  met  mine 
the  moment  I  went  in,  and  I  thought  I  had  seen 
him  before,  but  couldn't  at  first  make  out  where. 
Do  you  remember,  Alice,  a  little  ragged  boy,  with 
a  remarkably  bright,  pleasant  face,  who  has  planted 
himself  regularly  every  Sunday  morning  for  some 
time  past  in  the  south  aisle  of  the  church,  and  stood 
there  all  service  time  ?  " 

Alice  said  no. 

"  I  have  noticed  him  often,  and  noticed  him  a*> 
paying  a  most  fixed  and  steady  attention.  I  have 
repeatedly  tried  to  catch  him  on  his  way  out  of 
church,  to  speak  to  him,  but  always  failed.  I 
asked  him  to-night,  when  I  first  went  in,  if  he  knew 
me.  '  I  do,  sir,'  he  said.  I  asked  him  where  he 
had  seen  me.  He  said,  '  In  the  church  beyant.' 
'  So,'  said  I,  '  you  are  the  little  boy  I  have  seen 
there  so  regularly;  what  did  you  come  there 
for?' 

"  '  To  hear  yer  honor  spake  the  good  words.' 

"  '  What  good  words  ? '  said  I  ;  '  about  what  ? ' 

"  He  said,  '  About  Him  that  was  slain  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood.' 

"  '  And  do  you  think  He  has  washed  away  yours  ?  * 
I  said. 

"  He    smiled    at   me  very  expressively.     I  sup* 


442  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

pose  it  was  somewhat  difficult  for  him  to  speak ; 
and  to  tell  the  truth  so  it  was  for  me,  for  I  was 
taken  by  surprise  ;  but  the  people  in  the  hut  had 
gathered  round,  and  I  wished  to  hear  him  say  more, 
for  their  sake  as  well  as  my  own.  I  asked  him  why 
he  thought  his  sins  were  washed  away.  He  gave 
me  for  answer  part  of  the  verse,  '  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  Me,'  but  did  not  finish  it. 
f  Do  you  think  you  are  very  sick,  John  ?    \  I  asked. 

"  '  I  am,  sir,'  he  said, — '  I'll  not  be  long  here.' 

"  *  And  where  do  you  think  you  are  going  then  ? ' 
said  I, 

"  He  lifted  one  little  thin,  bony  arm  from  under 
his  coverlid,  and  through  all  the  dirt  and  pallor  of 
his  face  the  smile  of  heaven  I  am  sure  was  on  it, 
as  he  looked  and  pointed  upward  and  answered, 
*  Jesus  ! ' 

"  I  asked  him  presently,  as  soon  as  I  could,  what 
he  had  wished  to  see  me  for.  I  don't  know  whether 
he  heard  me  or  not ;  he  lay  with  his  eyes  half  closed, 
breathing  with  difficulty.  I  doubted  whether  he 
would  speak  again  ;  and,  indeed,  for  myself,  I  had 
heard  and  seen  enough  to  satisfy  me  entirely  ; — for 
the  sake  of  the  group  around  the  bed  I  could  have 
desired  something  further.  They  kept  perfect  still- 
ness ;  av/ed,  I  think,  by  a  profession  of  faith  such 
as  they  had  never  heard  before.  They  and  I  stood 
watching  him,  and  at  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  not 
more  than  ten  or  fifteen,  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
with  sudden  life  and  strength  rose  up  half  way  in 
bed,  exclaiming,  'Thanks  be  to  God  for  His  un- 
speakable gift ! ' — and  then  fell  back — just  dead." 

The  old  gentleman's  voice  was  husky  as  he 
finished,  for  Alice  and  Ellen  were  both  weeping, 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  443 

and  John  Humphreys  had  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

"  I  have  felt,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  presently, 
— "  as  if  I  could  have  shouted  out  his  words — his 
dying  words — all  the  way  as  I  came  home.  My 
little  girl,"  said  he,  drawing  Ellen  to  him,  "  do  you 
know  the  meaning  of  those  sweet  things  of  which 
little  John  Dolan's  mind  was  so  full  ?  " 

Ellen  did  not  speak. 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  sinner  ? — and 
what  it  is  to  be  a  forgiven  child  of  God  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do,  sir,"  Ellen  said. 

He  kissed  her  forehead  and  blessed  her ;  and 
then  said,  "  Let  us  pray." 

It  was  late ;  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed,  and 
they  were  alone.  Oh,  what  a  thanksgiving  Mr. 
Humphreys  poured  forth  for  that  "unspeakable 
gift ;  " — that  they,  every  one  there,  had  been  made 
to  know  and  rejoice  in  it ;  for  the  poor  little  boy, 
rich  in  faith,  who  had  just  gone  home  in  the  same 
rejoicing  ;  for  their  own  loved  ones  who  were  there 
already ;  and  for  the  hope  of  joining  them  soon  in 
safety  and  joy,  to  sing  with  them  the  "new  song* 
forever  and  ever. 

There  were  no  dry  eyes  in  the  room.  And  when 
they  arose,  Mr.  Humphreys,  after  giving  his  daugh- 
ter the  usual  kiss  for  good-night,  gave  one  to  Ellen 
too,  which  he  had  never  done  before,  and  then 
going  to  his  son  and  laying  both  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  kissed  his  cheek  also  ;  then  silently  took 
his  candle  and  went. 

They  lingered  a  little  while  after  he  was  gone, 
standing  round  the  fire  as  if  loth  to  part,  but  in 
grave  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 


444  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Alice's  ended  by  fixing  on  her  brother,  for  laying 
her  hand  and  her  head  caressingly  on  his  shoulder, 
she  said,  "  And  so  you  have  been  well  all  this  time, 
John  ? " 

He  turned  his  face  towards  her  without  speak- 
ing, but  Ellen  as  well  as  his  sister  saw  the  look  of 
love  with  which  he  answered  her  question,  rather 
of  endearment  than  inquiry ;  and  from  that  minute 
Ellen's  mind  was  made  up  as  to  the  doubt  which 
had  troubled  her.  She  went  to  bed  quite  satisfied 
that  her  new  brother  was  a  decided  acquisition. 


EX  It   OF   VOL.    L 


THE    WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD 


BY 

SUSAN   WARNER 

AUTHOR  OF  "  QUEECHY,"  "  DOLLARS  AND  CENTS,"  ETC, 


VOL.    II 


m 


NEW   YORK 

HURST   AND    COMPANY 

Publishers 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  night  was  winter  in  his  roughest  mood, 
The  morning  sharp  anc)  clear .... 

Thar  vault  is  blue 

Without  a  cloud,  and  white  without  a  speck 
The  dazzling  splendor  of  the  scene  below . 

Cowpek. 

Before  Ellen  s  eyes  were  open  the  next  morning 
— almost  before  she  awoke — the  thought  of  the 
Christmas  visit,  the  sleigh-ride,  John  Humphreys, 
and  the  weather,  all  rushed  into  her  mind  at  once ; 
and  started  her  half  up  in  the  bed  to  look  out  of  the 
window.  Well  frosted  the  panes  of  glass  were, 
but  at  the  corners  and  edges  unmistakable  bright 
gleams  of  light  came  in. 

"Oh,  Alice,  it's  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Ellen; 
"  look  how  the  sun  is  shining  !  and  'tisn't  very 
cold.     Are  we  going  to-day  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,  Elhe,  but  we  shall  know  very 
soon.     We'll  settle  that  at  breakfast." 

At  breakfast  it  was  settled.  They  were  to  go, 
and  set  off  directly.  Mr.  Humphreys  could  not  go 
with  them,  because  he  had  promised  to  bury  little 
John  Dolan ;  the  priest  had  declared  he  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  and  the  poor  mother 
had  applied  to  Mr.  Humphreys,  as  being  the  clergy- 
man her  child  had  most  trusted  and  loved  to  hear. 


4  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

It  seemed  that  little  John  had  persuaded  her  out 
of  half  her  prejudices  by  his  affectionate  talk  and 
blameless  behavior  during  some  time  past.  Mr. 
Humphreys  therefore  must  stay  at  home  that  day. 
He  promised,  however,  to  follow  them  the  next, 
and  would  by  no  means  permit  them  to  wait  for 
him.  He  said  the  day  was  fine  and  they  must  im- 
prove it ;  and  he  should  be  pleased  to  have  them 
with  their  friends  as  long  as  possible. 

So  the  little  traveling  bag  was  stuffed,  with  more 
things  than  it  seemed  possible  to  get  into  it. 
Among  the  rest,  Ellen  brought  her  little  red  Bible, 
which  Alice  decided  should  go  in  John's  pocket ; — 
the  little  carpet-bag  could  not  take  it.  Ellen  was 
afraid  it  never  would  be  locked.  By  dint  of  much 
pushing  and  crowding,  however,  locked  it  was  ;  and 
they  made  themselves  ready.  Over  Ellen's  merino 
dress  and  coat  went  an  old  fur  tippet ;  a  little  shawl 
was  tied  round  her  neck ;  her  feet  were  cased  in 
a  pair  of  warm  moccasins,  which,  belonging  to 
Margery,  were  of  course  a  world  too  big  for  her, 
but  "anything  but  cold,"  as  their  owner  said.  Her 
nice  blue  hood  would  protect  her  head  well,  and 
Alice  gave  her  a  green  veil  to  save  her  eyes  from 
the  glare  of  the  snow.  When  Ellen  shuffled  out  of 
Alice's  room  in  this  trim,  John  gave  her  one  of  his 
grave  looks,  and  saying  she  looked  like  Mother 
Bunch,  begged  to  know  how  she  expected  to  get  to 
the  sleigh  ;  he  said  she  would  want  a  footman  in- 
deed to  wait  upon  her,  to  pick  up  her  slippers,  if 
she  went  in  that  fashion.  However,  he  ended  by 
picking  her  up,  carried  her  and  set  her  down  safely 
in  the  sleigh.  Alice  followed,  and  in  another  min- 
ute they  were  off. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  5 

Ellen's  delight  was  unbounded.  Presently  they 
turned  round  a  corner  and  left  the  house  behind 
out  of  sight ;  and  they  were  speeding  away  along  a 
road  that  was  quite  new  to  her.  Ellen's  heart  felt 
like  dancing  for  joy.  Nobody  would  have  thought 
it,  she  sat  so  still  and  quiet  between  Alice  and  her 
brother  ;  but  her  eyes  were  very  bright  as  they 
looked  joyously  about  her,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  could  not  help  smiling  to  herself.  Nothing  was 
wanting  to  the  pleasure  of  that  ride.  The  day  was 
of  winter's  fairest ;  the  blue  sky  as  clear  as  if  clouds 
had  never  dimmed  or  crossefl  it.  None  crossed  it 
now.  It  was  cold,  but  not  bitterly  cold,  nor  windy ; 
the  sleigh  skimmed  along  over  the  smooth  frozen 
surface  of  the  snow  as  if  it  was  no  trouble  at  all  to 
Prince  Charlie  to  draw  it ;  and  the  sleigh-bells 
jingled  and  rang,  the  very  music  for  Ellen's  thoughts 
to  dance  to.  And  then  with  somebody  she  liked 
very  much  on  each  side  of  her,  and  pleasures  un- 
told in  the  prospect,  no  wonder  she  felt  as  if  her 
heart  could  not  hold  any  more.  The  green  veil 
could  not  be  kept  on,  everything  looked  so  beauti- 
ful in  that  morning's  sun.  The  long  wide  slopes 
of  untrodden  and  unspotted  snow,  too  bright  some- 
times for  the  eye  to  look  at ;  the  shadows  that  here 
and  there  lay  upon  it,  of  woodland  and  scattered 
trees ;  the  very  brown  fences,  and  the  bare  arms 
and  branches  of  the  leafless  trees  showing  sharp 
against  the  white  ground  and  clear  bright  heaven  ; 
— all  seemed  lovely  in  her  eyes.     For 

"  It  is  content  of  heart 
Gives  nature  power  to  please." 

She  could   see  nothing  that  was  not  pleasant. 


6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

And  besides,  they  were  in  a  nice  little  red  sleigh, 
with  a  warm  buffalo  robe,  and  Prince  Charlie  was 
a  fine  spirited  gray  that  scarcely  ever  needed  to  be 
touched  with  the  whip  ;  at  a  word  of  encourage- 
ment from  his  driver  he  would  toss  his  head  and 
set  forward  with  new  life,  making  all  the  bells  jingle 
again.  To  be  sure,  she  would  have  been  just  as 
happy  if  they  had  had  the  poorest  of  vehicles  on 
runners,  with  old  John  instead  ;  but  still  it  was 
pleasanter  so. 

Their  road  at  first  was  through  a  fine  undulating 
country  like  that  between  the  Nose  and  Thirlwall ; 
farm-houses  and  patches  of  woodland  scattered 
here  and  there.  It  would  seem  that  the  minds  of 
all  the  party  were  full  of  the  same  thoughts,  for 
after  a  very  long  silence  Alice's  first  word,  almost 
sigh,  was  : 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  world,  John  !  " 

"Beautiful  ! — wherever  you. can  escape  from  the 
signs  of  man's  presence  and  influence." 

"  Isn't  that  almost  too  strong  ?  "  said  Alice. 

He  shook  his  head,  smiling  somewhat  sadly,  and 
touched  Prince  Charlie,  who  was  indulging  himself 
in  a  walk. 

"  But  there  are  bright  exceptions,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  believe  it ;  never  so  much  as  when  I  come 
home." 

"  Are  there  none  around  you,  then,  in  whom  you 
can  have  confidence  and  sympathy  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  again.  "  Not  enough,  Alice, 
I  longed  for  you  every  day  of  my  life." 

Alice  turned  her  head  quickly  away. 

"  It  must  be  so,  my  dear  sister,"  he  said,  presently ; 
"we  can  never  expect  to  find  it  otherwise.     There 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  j 

are,  as  you  say,  bright  exceptions, — many  of  them; 
but  in  almost  all  I  find  some  sad  want.  We  must 
wait  till  we  join  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect, 
before  we  see  society  that  will  be  all  we  wish  for." 

"  What  is  Ellen  thinking  of  all  this  while  ?  "  said 
Alice  presently,  bending  down  to  see  her  face. 
"As  grave  as  a  judge! — what  are  you  musing 
about?" 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Ellen,  "  how  men  could 
help  the  world's  being  beautiful." 

"  Don't  trouble  your  little  head  with  that  ques- 
tion," said  John,  smiling  ; — "  long  may  it  be  before 
you  are  able  to  answer  it.  Look  at  those  snow- 
birds ! " 

By  degrees  the  day  wore  on.  About  one  o'clock 
they  stopped  at  a  farm-house  to  let  the  horse  rest, 
and  to  stretch  their  own  limbs,  which  Ellen  for  her 
part  was  very  glad  to  do.  The  people  of  the  house 
received  them  with  great  hospitality  and  offered 
them  pumpkin  pies  and  sweet  cider.  Alice  had 
brought  a  basket  of  sandwiches,  and  Prince  Charlie 
was  furnished  with  a  bag  of  corn  Thomas  had 
stowed  away  in  the  sleigh  for  him  ;  so  they  were 
all  well  refreshed  and  rested  and  warmed  before 
they  set  off  again. 

From  home  to  Ventnor,  Mr.  Marshman's  place, 
was  more  than  thirty  miles,  and  the  longest,  be- 
cause the  most  difficult,  part  of  the  way  was  still 
before  them.  Ellen,  however,  soon  became  sleepy, 
from  riding  in  the  keen  air ;  she  was  content  now  to 
have  the  green  veil  over  her  face,  and  sitting  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh,  her  head  leaning  against 
Alice,  and  covered  well  with  the  buffalo  robe,  she 
slept  in  happy  unconsciousness  of  hill   and   dale. 


8  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

wind  and  sun,  and  all  the  remaining  hours  of  the 
way. 

It  was  drawing  towards  four  o'clock  when  Alice 
with  some  difficulty  roused  her  to  see  the  approach 
to  the  house  and  get  wide  awake  before  they  should 
reach  it.  They  turned  from  the  road  and  entered 
by  a  gateway  into  some  pleasure  grounds,  through 
which  a  short  drive  brought  them  to  the  house. 
These  grounds  were  fine,  but  the  wide  lawns  were  a 
smooth  spread  of  snow  now  ;  the  great  skeletons  of 
oaks  and  elms  were  bare  and  wintry ;  and  patches 
of  shrubbery  offered  little  but  tufts  and  bunches  of 
brown  twigs  and  stems.  It  might  have  looked 
dreary,  but  that  some  well  grown  evergreens  were 
clustered  round  the  house,  and  others  scattered 
here  and  there  relieved  the  eye  ;  a  few  holly  bushes 
singly  and  in  groups,  proudly  displayed  their  bright 
dark  leaves  and  red  berries  ;  and  one  unrivaled  hem- 
lock on  the  west  threw  its  graceful  shadow  quite 
across  the  lawn,  on  which,  as  on  itself,  the  white 
chimney-tops,  and  the  naked  branches  of  oaks  and 
elms,  was  the  faint  smile  of  the  afternoon  sun. 

A  servant  came  to  take  the  horse,  and  Ellen, 
being  first  rid  of  her  moccasins,  went  with  John  and 
Alice  up  the  broad  flight  of  steps  and  into  the  house. 
They  entered  a  large  handsome  square  hall  with  a 
blue  and  white  stone  floor,  at  one  side  of  which  the 
staircase  went  winding  up.  Here  they  were  met  by 
a  young  lady,  very  lively  and  pleasant-faced,  who 
threw  her  arms  round  Alice  and  kissed  her  a  great 
many  times,  seeming  very  glad  indeed  to  see  her. 
She  welcomed  Ellen,  too,  with  such  warmth  that  she 
began  to  feel  almost  as  if  she  had  been  sent  for  and 
expected ;  told   Mr.  John  he    had    behaved    admi- 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  9 

rably  ;  and  then  led  them  into  a  large  room  where 
was  a  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

The  welcome  they  got  here  was  less  lively  but 
quite  as  kind.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marshman  were  fine 
handsome  old  people,  of  stately  presence,  and  most 
dignified  as  well  as  kind  in  their  deportment.  Ellen 
saw  that  Alice  was  at  home  here,  as  if  she  had  been 
a  daughter  of  the  family.  Mrs.  Marshman  also 
stooped  down  and  kissed  herself,  telling  her  she 
was  very  glad  she  had  come,  and  that  there  were  a 
number  of  young  people  there  who  would  be  much 
pleased  to  have  her  help  them  keep  Christmas. 
Ellen  could  not  make  out  yet  who  any  of  the  rest 
of  the  company  were.  John  and  Alice  seemed  to 
know  them  all,  and  there  was  a  buzz  of  pleasant 
voices  and  a  great  bustle  of  shaking  hands. 

The  children  had  all  gone  out  to  walk,  and  as 
they  had  had  their  dinner  a  great  while  ago,  it  was 
decided  that  Ellen  should  ta"ke  hers  that  day  with 
the  elder  part  of  the  family.  While  they  were  wait- 
ing to  be  called  to  dinner,  and  everybody  else  was 
talking  and  laughing,  old  Mr.  Marshman  took  notice 
of  little  Ellen,  and  drawing  her  from  Alice's  side 
to  his  own,  began  a  long  conversation.  He  asked 
her  a  great  many  questions,  some  of  them  such 
funny  ones  that  she  could  not  help  laughing,  but 
she  answered  them  all,  and  now  and  then  so  that 
she  made  him  laugh  too.  By  the  time  the  butler 
came  to  say  dinner  was  ready  she  had  almost  for- 
gotten she  was  a  stranger.  Mr.  Marshman  himself 
led  her  to  the  dining-room,  begging  the  elder  ladies 
would  excuse  him,  but  he  felt  bound  to  give  his 
attention  to  the  greatest  stranger  in  the  company. 
He  placed  her   on  his  right   hand  and    took   the 


io  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

greatest  care  of  her  all  dinner-time  ;  once  sending 
her  plate  the  whole  length  of  the  table  for  some 
particular  little  thing  he  thought  she  would  like. 
On  the  other  side  of  Ellen  sat  Mrs.  Chauncey, 
one  of  Mr.  Marshman's  daughters  ;  a  lady  with  a 
sweet,  gentle,  quiet  face  and  manner  that  made 
Ellen  like  to  sit  by  her.  Another  daughter,  Mrs. 
Gillespie,  had  more  of  her  mother's  stately  bear- 
ing; the  third,  Miss  Sophia,  who  met  them  first  in 
the  hall,  was  very  unlike  both  the  others,  but  lively 
and  agreeable  and  good-humored. 

Dinner  gave  place  to  the  dessert,  and  that  in  its  turn 
was  removed  with  the  cloth.  Ellen  was  engaged  in 
munching  almonds  and  raisins,  admiring  the  bright- 
ness of  the  mahogany,  and  the  richly  cut  and  colored 
glass,  and  silver  decanter  stands,  which  were  re- 
flected in  it ;  when  a  door  at  the  further  end  of 
the  room  half  opened,  a  little  figure  came  partly 
in,  and  holding  the  door  in  her  hand,  stood  look- 
ing doubtfully  along  the  table,  as  if  seeking  for 
some  one. 

1  "  What  is  the  matter,  Ellen  ?  "  said  Mrs.    Chaun- 
cey. 

"  Mrs.  Bland  told  me, — mamma "  she  began, 

her  eye  not  ceasing  its  uneasy  quest,  but  then 
breaking  off  and  springing  to  Alice's  side,  she  threw 
her  arms  around  her  neck,  and  gave  her  certainly 
the  warmest  of  all  the  warm  welcomes  she  had  had 
that  day. 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  Mr.  Marshman,  rapping  on  the 
table ;  "  that's  too  much  for  any  one's  share. 
Come  here,  you  baggage,  and  give  me  just  such 
another." 

The  little  girl  came  near  accordingly  and  hugged 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  A' If).  u 

and  kissed  him  with  a  very  good  will,  remarking, 
however,  "  Ah,  but  I've  seen  you  before  to-day, 
grandpapa !  " 

"  Well,  here's  somebody  you've  not  seen  before," 
said  he,  good-humoredly,  pulling  her  round  to  Ellen, 
— "  here's  a  new  friend  for  you, — a  young  lady  from 
the  great  city,'  so  you  must  brush  up  your  country 
manners — Miss  Ellen  Montgomery,  come  from— 
pshaw  !  what  is  it  ? — come  from " 

"  London,  grandpapa  ? "  said  the  little  girl,  as 
with  a  mixture  of  simplicity  and  kindness  she  took 
Ellen's  hand  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

"  From  Carra-carra,  sir  ?  "  said  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  Go  along  with  you,"  said  he,  laughing  and  pinch- 
ing her  cheek.  "  Take  her  away,  Ellen,  take  her 
away,  and  mind  you  take  good  care  of  her.  Tell 
Mrs.  Bland  she  is  one  of  grandpapa's  guests." 

The  two  children  had  not,  however,  reached  the 
door  when  Ellen  Chauncey  exclaimed,  "  Wait,  oh  ! 
wait  a  minute  !  I  must  speak  to  Aunt  Sophia  about 
the  bag."  And  flying  to  her  side,  there  followed 
an  earnest  whispering,  and  then  a  nod  and  smile 
from  Aunt  Sophia  ;  and  satisfied,  Ellen  returned  to 
her  companion  and  led  her  out  of  the  dining-room. 

11  We  have  both  got  the  same  name,"  said  she,  as 
they  went  along  a  wide  corridor ;  "  how  shall  we 
know  which  is  which  ?  " 

"Why,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "when you  say 
Ellen  I  shall  know  you  mean  me,  and  when  I  say 
it  you  will  know  I  mean  you.  I  shouldn't  be  call- 
ing myself,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  but  when  somebody  else  calls,  Ellen,  we 
shall  both  have  to  run.  Do  you  run  when  you  are 
called  ?  " 


12  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Sometimes,"  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  Ah,  but  I  do  always  ;  mamma  always  makes 
me.  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  like  Marianne 
Gillespie — she  waits  often  as  much  as  half  a  minute 
before  she  stirs  when  anybody  calls  her.  Did  you 
come  with  Miss  Alice  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  love  her  ?  " 

'•  Very  much  ! — oh,  very  much  !  " 

Little  Ellen  looked  at  her  companion's  rising 
color  with  a  glance  of  mixed  curiosity  and  pleasure 
in  which  lay  a  strong  promise  of  growing  love. 

"So  do  I,"  she  answered,  gayly ;  "I  am  very 
glad  she  is  come,  and  I  am  very  glad  you  are  come, 
too." 

The  little  speaker  pushed  open  a  door  and  led 
Ellen  into  the  presence  of  a  group  of  young  people 
rather  older  than  themselves. 

"  Marianne,"  said  she  to  one  of  them,  a  hand- 
some girl  of  fourteen,  "  this  is  Miss  Ellen  Mont- 
gomery— she  came  with  Alice,  and  she  is  come  to 
keep  Christmas  with  us — aren't  you  glad  ?  There'll 
be  quite  a  parcel  of  us  when  what's-her-name  comes 
—won't  there  ? " 

Marianne  shook  hands  with  Ellen. 

"  She  is  one  of  grandpapa's  guests,  I  can  tell 
you,"  said  little  Ellen  Chauncey  ;  "  and  he  says  we 
must  brush  up  our  country  manners-^she's  come 
from  the  great  city." 

"  Do  you  think  we  are  a  set  of  ignoramuses.  Miss 
Ellen  ?  "  inquired  a  well-grown  boy  of  fifteen,  who 
looked  enough  like  Marianne  Gillespie  to  prove  him 
her  brother. 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  is,"  said  Ellen. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  23 

"  Well,  do  they  do  things  better  in  the  great  city 
than  we  do  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  do  them  here/'  said 
Ellen. 

"  Don't  you  ? — Come  !  Stand  out  of  my  way, 
right  and  left,  all  of  you,  will  you  ?  and  give  me  a 
chance.     Now  then  !  " 

Conscious  that  he  was  amusing  most  of  the  party,, 
he  placed  himself  gravely  at  a  little  distance  from 
Ellen,  and  marching  solemnly  up  to  her  bowed 
down  to  her  knees — then,  slowly  raising  his  head, 
stepped  back. 

"  Miss  Ellen  Montgomery,  I  am  rejoiced  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  Ventnor. — Isn't  that 
polite  now  ?  Is  that  like  what  you  have  been  ac- 
customed to,  Miss  Montgomery  ?  " 

"  No,  sir — thank  you,"  said  Ellen,  who  laughed 
in  spite  of  herself.  The  mirth  of  the  others  re- 
doubled. 

"  May  I  request  to  be  informed  then,"  continued 
Gillespie,  "  what  is  the  fashion  of  making  bows  in 
the  great  city  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  never  saw  a  boy 
make  a  bow  before." 

"  Humph  ! — I  guess  country  manners  will  do  for 
you,"  said  William,  turning  on  his  heel. 

"  You're  giving  her  a  pretty  specimen  of  'em, 
Bill,"  said  another  boy. 

"  For  shame,  William  !  "  cried  little  Ellen  Chaun- 
cey ; — "  didn't  I  tell  you  she  was  one  of  grandpapa's 
guests?  Come  here,  Ellen,  I'll  take  you  some- 
where else." 

She  seized  Ellen's  hand  and  pulled  her  towards 
the  door,  but  suddenly  stopped  again. 


14  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  !  "  she  said, — "  I  asked 
Aunt  Sophia  about  the  bag  of  moroccos,  and  she 
said  we  should  have  'em  early  to-morrow  morning, 
and  then  we  can  divide  'em  right  away." 

"We  mustn't  divide  'em  till  Maggie  comes,"  said 
Marianne. 

"  Oh,  no — not  till  Maggie  comes,"  said  little 
Ellen,  and  then  ran  off  again. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come,"  said  she  ; — "the 
others  are  all  so  much  older,  and  they  have  all  so 
much  to  do  together — and  now  you  can  help  me 
think  what  I  will  make  for  mamma.  Hush  !  don't 
say  a  word  about  it !  " 

They  entered  the  large  drawing-room  where  old 
and  young  were  gathered  for  tea.  The  children, 
who  had  dined  early,  sat  down  to  a  well-spread  table 
at  which  Miss  Sophia  presided  ;  the  elder  persons 
were  standing  or  sitting  in  different  parts  of  the 
room.  Ellen,  not  being  hungry,  had  leisure  to  look 
about  her,  and  her  eyes  soon  wandered  from  the 
tea-table  in  search  of  her  old  friends.  Alice  was 
sitting  by  Mrs.  Marshman,  talking  with  two  other 
ladies  ;  but  Ellen  smiled  presently  as  she  caught 
her  eye  from  the  far  end  of  the  room  and  got  a 
little  nod  of  recognition.  John  came  up  just  then 
to  set  down  his  coffee-cup,  and  asked  her  what  she 
was  smiling  at. 

"  That's  city  manners,"  said  William  Gillespie, 
"  to  laugh  at  what's  going  on." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  all  follow  the  ex- 
ample," said  John  Humphreys,  "  if  the  young 
gentleman  will  try  to  give  us  a  smile." 

The  young  gentleman  had  just-  accommodated 
himself  with  an  outrageously  large  mouthful  of  bread 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  15 

and  sweetmeats,  and  if  ever  so  well  disposed,  com- 
pliance with  the  request  was  impossible.  None  of 
the  rest,  however,  not  even  his  sister,  could  keep 
their  countenances,  for  the  eye  of  the  speaker  had 
pointed  and  sharpened  his  words  ;  and  William, 
very  red  in  the  face,  was  understood  to  mumble,  as 
soon  as  mumbling  was  possible,  that  "  he  wouldn't 
laugh  unless  he  had  a  mind  to,"  and  a  threat  to 
"  do  something  "  to  his  tormentor. 

"  Only  not  eat  me,"  said  John,  with  a  shade  of 
expression  in  his  look  and  tone  which  overcame  the 
whole  party,  himself  and  poor  William  alone  retain- 
ing entire  gravity. 

"  What's  all  this  ?  what's  all  this  ? — what's  a!t 
this  laughing  about  ?  "  said  old  Mr.  Marshman^ 
coming  up. 

"  This  young  gentleman,  sir,"  said  John,  "  has 
been  endeavoring — with  a  mouthful  of  arguments 
— to  prove  to  us  the  inferiority  of  city  manners  to 
those  learned  in  the  country." 

"  Will  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  glancing  doubt- 
fully at  William's  discomfited  face ;  then  added, 
sternly,  "  I  don't  care  where  your  manners  were 
learnt,  sir,  but  I  advise  you  to  be  very  particular  as 
to  the  sort  you  bring  with  you  here.  Now,  Sophia, 
let  us  have  some  music." 

He  set  the  children  a-dancing,  and  as  Ellen  did 
not  know  how,  he  kept  her  by  him,  and  kept  her 
very  much  amused  too,  in  his  own  way;  then 
he  would  have  her  join  in  the  dancing  and  bade 
Ellen  Chauncey  give  her  lessons.  There  was  a 
little  backwardness  at  first,  and  then  Ellen  was 
jumping  away  with  the  rest  and  thinking  it  perfectly 
delightful,  as  Miss  Sophia's  piano  rattled  out  merry 


16  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

jigs  and  tunes,  and  little  feet  flew  over  the  floor  as 
light  as  the  hearts  they  belonged  to.  At  eight 
o'clock  the  young  ones  were  dismissed,  and  bade 
good-night  to  their  elders  ;  and  pleased  with  the 
kind  kiss  Mrs.  Marshman  had  given  her  as  well  as 
her  little  granddaughter,  Ellen  went  off  to  bed 
very   happy. 

The  room  to  which  her  companion  led  her  was 
the  very  picture  of  comfort,  It  was  not  too  large, 
furnished  with  plain  old-fashioned  furniture,  and 
lighted  and  warmed  by  a  cheerful  wood-fire.  The 
very  old  brass-headed  andirons,  that  stretched 
themselves  out  upon  the  hearth  with  such  a  look  of 
being  at  home,  seemed  to  say,  "  You  have  come  to 
the  right  place  for  comfort."  A  little  dark  mahog- 
any book-case  in  one  place — an  odd  toilet  table  of 
the  same  stuff  in  another ;  and  opposite  the  fire  an 
old-fashioned  high-post  bedstead,  with  its  handsome 
Marseilles  quilt  and  ample  pillows,  looked  very 
tempting.  Between  this'  and  the  far  side  of  the 
room,  in  the  corner,  another  bed  was  spread  on  the 
floor. 

"  This  is  Aunt  Sophia's  room,"  said  little  Ellen 
Chauncey ; — "  this  is  where  you  are  to  sleep." 

"  And  where  will  Alice  be  ? "  said  the  other 
Ellen. 

"  Oh,  she'll  sleep  here,  in  this  bed,  with  Aunt 
Sophia ;  that  is  because  the  house  is  so  full,  you 
know ; — and  here  is  your  bed,  here  on  the  floor. 
Oh,  delicious  !  I  wish  I  was  going  to  sleep  here. 
Don't  you  love  to  sleep  on  the  floor  ?  I  do.  I 
think  it's  fun." 

Anybody  might  have  thought  it  fun  to  sleep  on 
that  bed,  for  instead  of  a  bedstead  it  was  luxuriously 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  17 

piled  ort    mattresses.     The  two  children  sat  down 
together  on  the  foot  of  it. 

"This  is  Aunt  Sophia's  room,"  continued  little 
Ellen,  "  and  next  to  it,  out  of  that  door,  is  our 
dressing-room,  and  next  to  that  is  where  mamma 
and  I  sleep.  Do  you  undress  and  dress  your- 
self ? " 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  said  Ellen, — "always." 

"  So  do  I  ;  but  Marianne  Gillespie  won't  even 
put  on  her  shoes  and  stockings  for  herself." 

"  Who  does  it,  then  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Why,  Lester — Aunt  Matilda's  maid.  Mamma 
sent  away  her  maid  when  we  came  here,  and  she 
says  if  she  had  fifty  she  would  like  me  to  do  every- 
thing I  can  for  myself.  I  shouldn't  think  it  was 
pleasant  to  have  any  one  put  on  one's  shoes  and 
stockings  for  you,  should  you  ? " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Ellen.  "  Then  you  live  here 
all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes — ever  since  papa  didn't  come  back  from 
that  long  voyage — we  live  here  since  then." 

"  Is  he  coming  back  soon  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  little  Ellen,  gravely, — "  he  never 
came  back — he  never  will  come  back  any  more." 

Ellen  was  sorry  she  had  asked,  and  both  children 
were  silent  for  a  minute. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what !  "  said  little  Ellen,  jumping 
up, — "  mamma  said  we  mustn't  sit  up  too  long  talk- 
ing, so  I'll  run  and  get  my  things  and  bring  'em 
here,  and  we  can  undress  together  ;  won't  that  be 
a  nice  way  ? " 
2 


18  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

lie  that  loses  anything,  and  gets  wisdom  by  it,  is  a  gainer  by  the  loss. 

L'ESTRANGE. 

Left  alone  in  the  strange  room  with  the  flicker 
ing  fire,  how  quickly  Ellen's  thoughts  left  Ventnor 
and  flew  over  the  sea.  They  often  traveled  that 
road,  it  is  true,  but  now  perhaps  the  very  home 
look  of  everything,  where  yet  she  was  not  at  home, 
might  have  sent  them.  There  was  a  bitter  twinge 
or  two,  and  for  a  minute  Ellen's  head  drooped. 
"  To-morrow  will  be  Christmas  eve — last  Christ- 
mas eve — oh,  mamma  !  " 

Little  Ellen  Chauncey  soon  came  back,  and  sit- 
ting down  beside  her  on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  be- 
gan the  business  of  undressing. 

"  Don't  you  love  Christmas  time  ?  "  said  she  ; 
*  I  think  it's  the  pleasantest  in  all  the  year  ;  we  al- 
ways have  a  houseful  of  people,  and  such  fine  times. 
But  then  in  summer  I  think  that's  the  pleasantest. 
I  s'pose  they're  all  pleasant.  Do  you  hang  up  your 
stocking  ? " 

"No,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Don't  you  ? — why,  I  always  did  ever  since  I  can 
remember.  I  used  to  think,  when  I  was  a  little  girl, 
you  know,"  said  she,  laughing, — "  I  used  to  think 
that  Santa  Claus  came  down  the  chimney,  and  I 
used  to  hang  up  my  stocking  as  near  the  fireplace 
as  I  could  ;  but  I  know  better  than  that  now  ;  I 
don't  care  where  I  hang  it.  You  know  who  Santa 
Claus  is,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  He's  nobody,"  said  Ellen. 
Oh,  yes,  he  is — he's  a  great  many  people — he's 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  19 

whoever  gives  you  anything.  My  Santa  Claus  is 
mamma,  and  grandpapa,  and  grandmamma,  and 
Aunt  Sophia,  and  Aunt  Matilda  ;  and  I  thought  I 
should  have  had  Uncle  George  too  this  Christmas, 
but  he  couldn't  come.  Uncle  Howard  never  gives 
me  anything.  I  am  sorry  Uncle  George  couldn't 
come  ;  I  like  him  the  best  of  all  my  uncles." 

"  I  never  had  anybody  but  mamma  to  give  me 
presents,"  said  Ellen,  "  and  she  never  gave  me 
much  more  at  Christmas  than  at  other  times." 

"  I  used  to  have  presents  from  mamma  and 
grandpapa  too,  both  Christmas  and  New  Year,  but 
now  I  have  grown  so  old,  mamma  only  gives  me 
something  Christmas  and  grandpapa  only  New 
Year.  It  would  be  too  much,  you  know,  for  me  to 
have  both,  when  my  presents  are  so  big.  I  don't 
believe  a  stocking  will  hold  'em  much  longer.  But 
oh  !  we've  got  such  a  fine  plan  in  our  heads,"  said 
little  Ellen,  lowering  her  voice  and  speaking  with 
open  eyes  and  great  energy, — "  we  are  going  to 
make  presents  this  year  ! — we  children — won't  it  be 
fine  ? — we  are  going  to  make  what  we  like  for  any- 
body we  choose,  and  let  nobody  know  anything 
about  it ;  and  then  New  Year's  morning,  you  know, 
when  the  things  are  all  under  the  napkins,  we  will 
give  ours  to  somebody  to  put  where  they  belong, 
and  nobody  will  know  anything  about  them  till  they 
see  them  there.  Won't  it  be  fine  ?  I'm  so  glad 
you  are  here,  for  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  I  shall 
make." 

"  Who  is  it  for  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  mamma ;  you  know  I  can't  make  for  every- 
body, so  I  think  I  had  rather  it  should  be  for 
mamma.     I  thought  of  making  her  a  needlebook 


20  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

with  white  backs,  and  getting  Gilbert  Gillespie  to 
paint  them — he  can  paint  beautifully, — and  having 
her  name  and  something  else  written  very  nicely  in- 
side— how  do  you  think  that  would  do  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  would  do  very  nicely,"  said 
Ellen, — "  very  nicely  indeed." 

"  I  wish  Uncle  George  was  at  home  though  to 
write  it  for  me, — he  writes  so  beautifully  ;  I  can't 
do  it  well  enough." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  either,"  said  Ellen.  "  Per- 
haps somebody  else  can." 

"  I  don't  know  who.  Aunt  Sophia  scribbles  and 
scratches,  and  besides  I  don't  want  her  to  know 
anything  about  it.  But  there's  another  thing  I 
don't  know  how  to  fix,  and  that's  the  edges  of  the 
leaves — the  leaves  for  the  needles — they  must  be 
fixed — somehow." 

"  I  can  show  you  how  to  do  that,"  said  Ellen, 
brightening  ;  "  mamma  had  a  needlebook  that  was 
given  to  her  that  had  the  edges  beautifully  fixed  ; 
and  I  wanted  to  know  how  it  was  done,  and  she 
showed  me.  I'll  show  you  that.  It  takes  a  good 
while,  but  that's  no  matter." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  ;  how  nice  that  is  !  Oh,  no,  that's 
no  matter.  And  then  it  will  do  very  well,  won't 
it?  Now,  if  I  can  only  catch  Gilbert  in  a  good 
humor — he  isn't  my  cousin — he's  Marianne's 
cousin — that  big  boy  you  saw  downstairs — he's  so 
big  he  won't  have  anything  to  say  to  me  some- 
times, but  I  guess  I'll  get  him  to  do  this.  Don't 
you  want  to  make  something  for  somebody  ?  " 

Ellen  had  had  one  or  two  feverish  thoughts  on 
this  subject  since  the  beginning  of  the  conversation : 
but  she  only  said, — 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  21 

"  It's  no  matter — you  know  I  haven't  got  any- 
thing here  ;  and  besides  I  shall  not  be  here  till  New 
Year." 

"  Not  here  till  New  Year  !  yes,  you  shall,"  said 
little  Ellen,  throwing  herself  upon  her  neck ;  "  in- 
deed, you  aren't  going  away  before  that.  I  know 
you  aren't — I  heard  grandmamma  and  Aunt  Sophia 
talking  about  it.  Say  you  will  stay  here  till  New 
Year— do  ! " 

"  I  should  like  to,  very  much  indeed,"  said  Ellen, 
"  if  Alice  does." 

In  the  midst  of  half  a  dozen  kisses  with  which 
her  little  companion  rewarded  this  speech,  some- 
body close  by  said  pleasantly, — 

"  What  time  of  night  do  you  suppose  it  is  ? " 

The  girls  starts  ■, — there  was  Mrs.  Chaun- 
cey. 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  exclaimed  her  little  daughter, 
springing  to  her  feet,  "  I  hope  you  haven't  heard 
what  we  have  been  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey,  smiling,  "  but 
as  to-morrow  will  be  long  enough  to  talk  in,  hadn't 
you  better  go  to  bed  now  ?  " 

Her  daughter  obeyed  her  immediately,  after  one 
more  hug  to  Ellen  and  telling  her  she  was  so  glad 
she  had  come.  Mrs.  Chauncey  stayed  to  see  Ellen 
in  bed  and  press  one  kind  motherly  kiss  upon  her 
face,  so  tenderly  that  Ellen's  eyes  were  moistened 
as  she  withdrew.  But  in  her  dreams  that  night  the 
rosy,  sweet  face,  blue  eyes,  and  little  plump  figure 
of  Ellen  Chauncey  played  the  greatest  part. 

She  slept  till  Alice  was  obliged  to  waken  her  the 
next  morning,  and  then  got  up  with  her  head  in  a 
charming  confusion  of  pleasures  past  and  pleasures 


2  2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

to  come, — things  known  and  unknown  to  be  made 
for  everybody's  New  Year  presents,— linen  collars 
and  painted  needlebooks  ;  and  no  sooner  was 
breakfast  over  than  she  was  showing  and  explain- 
ing to  Ellen  Chauncey  a  particularly  splendid  and 
mysterious  way  of  embroidering  the  edges  of  needle- 
book  leaves.  Deep  in  this  they  were  still  an  hour 
afterwards,  and  in  the  comparative  merits  of  purple 
and  rose  color,  when  a  little  hubbub  arose  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room  on  the  arrival  of  a  new  comer. 
Ellen  Chauncey  looked  up  from  her  work,  then 
dropped  it,  exclaiming,  "  There  she  is  ! — now  for 
the  bag  !  " — and  pulled  Ellen  along  with  her  towards 
the  party.  A  young  lady  was  in  the  midst  of  it, 
talking  so  fast  that  she  had  not  time  to  take  off  her 
cloak  and  bonnet.  As  her  eye  met  Ellen's,  how- 
ever, she  came  to  a  sudden  pause.  It  was  Mar- 
garet Dunscombe.  Ellen's  face  certainly  showed 
no  pleasure  ;  Margaret's  darkened  with  a  very  dis- 
agreeable surprise. 

"  My  goodness  ! — Ellen  Montgomery  ! — how  on 
earth  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  girls,  as 
the  two  Ellens  went  off  after  "  Aunt  Sophia." 

"  Do  I  know  her?  Yes — just  enough, — exactly. 
How  did  she  get  here  ?  " 

"  Miss  Humphreys  brought  her." 

"  Who's  Miss  Humphreys  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Marianne,  lowering  her  tone, — ■ 
"  that's  her  brother  in  the  window," 

"  Whose  brother  ? — hers  or  Miss  Humphreys'  ?  " 

"  Miss  Humphreys.  Did  you  never  see  her  ? 
she  is  here,  or  has  been  here,  a  great  deal  of  the 
time.     Grandma    calls    her   her   fourth    daughter; 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  23 

and  she  is  just  as  much  at  home  as  if  she  was  ;  and 
she  brought  her  here." 

"  And  she's  at  home  too,  I  suppose.  Well,  it's 
no  business  of  mine." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  her  ? " 

"Oh,  enough — that's  just  it — don't  want  to  know 
any  more." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  ;  but  what's  the  matter  with 
her  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — I'll  tell  you  some  other 
time — she's  a  conceited  little  piece.  We  had  the 
care  of  her  coming  up  the  river,  that's  how  I  come 
to  know  about  her  ;  'ma  said  it  was  the  last  child 
she  would  be  bothered  with  in  that  way." 

Presently  the  two  girls  came  back,  bringing  word 
to  clear  the  table,  for  Aunt  Sophia  was  coming 
with  the  moroccos.  As  soon  as  she  came,  Ellen 
Chauncey  sprang  to  her  neck  and  whispered  an 
earnest  question.  "  Certainly  !  "  Aunt  Sophia  said, 
as  she  poured  out  the  contents  of  the  bag  ;  and  her 
little  niece  delightedly  told  Ellen  she  was  to  have 
her  share  as  well  as  the  rest. 

The  table  was  now  strewn  with  pieces  of  morocco 
of  all  sizes  and  colors,  which  were  hastily  turned 
over  and  examined  with  eager  hands  and  sparkling 
eyes.  Some  were  mere  scraps,  to  be  sure  ;  but 
others  showed  a  breadth  and  length  of  beauty 
which  was  declared  to  be  "  first-rate,"  and  "fine;  " 
and  one  beautiful  large  piece  of  blue  morocco  in 
particular  was  made  up  in  imagination  by  two  or 
three  of  the  party  in  as  many  different  ways. 
Marianne  wanted  it  for  a  book-cover  ;  Margaret 
declared  she  could  make  a  lovely  reticule  with  it  ; 
and  Ellen  could  not  help  thinking  it  would  make  a 


24  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  RID. 

very  pretty  needle-box,  such  a  one  as  she  had  seen 
in  the  possession  of  one  of  the  girls,  and  longed  to 
make  for  Alice. 

"  Well,  what's  to  be  done  now  ? "  said  Miss 
Sophia, — "  or  am  I  not  to  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you're  not  to  know — you're  not  to  know, 
Aunt  Sophy,"  cried  the  girls  ; — "  you  mustn't  ask." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  they  are  going  to  do  with 
'em,"  said  George  Walsh,  coming  up  to  her  with  a 
mischievous  face,  and  adding  in  a  loud  whisper, 
shielding  his  mouth  with  his  hand, — "  they're  going 
to  make  pr " 

He  was  laid  hold  of  forcibly  by  the  whole  party 
screaming  and  laughing,  and  stopped  short  from 
finishing  his  speech. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  take  my  departure,"  said  Miss 
Sophia  ; — "  but  how  will  you  manage  to  divide  all 
these  scraps  ? " 

"  Suppose  we  were  to  put  them  in  the  bag  again 
and  you  hold  the  bag,  and  we  were  to  draw  them 
out  without  looking,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey, — "  as 
we  used  to  do  with  the  sugar-plums." 

As  no  better  plan  was  thought  of  this  was  agreed 
upon ;  and  little  Ellen  shutting  up  her  eyes  very 
tight  stuck  in  her  hand  and  pulled  out  a  little  bit 
of  green  morocco  about  the  size  of  a  dollar.  Ellen 
Montgomery  came  next,  then  Margaret,  then  Mari- 
anne, then  their  mutual  friend  Isabel  Hawthorn, 
Each  had  to  take  her  turn  a  great  many  times  • 
and  at  the  end  of  the  drawing  the  pieces  were 
found  to  be  pretty  equally  divided  among  the  party, 
with  the  exception  of  Ellen,  who  besides  several 
other  good  pieces  had  drawn  the  famous  blue. 

"That   will   do  very   nicely,"   said  little    Ellen 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  25 

Chauncey ; — "  I  am  glad  you  have  got  that,  Ellen. 
Now,  Aunt  Sophy  ! — one  thing  more — you  know  the 
silks  and  ribbons  you  promised  us." 

"  Bless  me  !  I  haven't  done  yet,  eh  ?  Well,  you 
shall  have  them,  but  we  are  all  going  out  to  walk 
now  ;  I'll  give  them  to  you  this  afternoon.  Come  ! 
put  these  away  and  get  on  your  bonnets  and 
cloaks." 

A  hard  measure  !  but  it  was  done.  After  the 
walk  came  dinner  ;  after  dinner  Aunt  Sophia  had 
to  be  found  and  waited  on,  till  she  had  fairly 
sought  out  and  delivered  to  their  hands  the  wished- 
for  bundle  of  silks  and  satins.  It  gave  great  sat- 
isfaction. 

"  But  how  shall  we  do  about  dividing  these  ? 
said  little  Ellen  ; — "  shall  we  draw  lots  again  ? " 

"  No,  Ellen,"  said  Marianne,  "  that  won't  do,, 
because  we  might  everyone  get  just  the  thing  we  do 
not  want.  I  want  one  color  or  stuff  to  go  with  my 
morocco,  and  you  want  another  to  go  with  yours  ; 
and  you  might  get  mine  and  I  might  get  yours. 
We  had  best  each  choose  in  turn  what  we  like,  be- 
ginning at  Isabel." 

"  Very  well,"  said  little  Ellen,  "  I'm  agreed." 

"  Anything  for  a  quiet  life,"  said  George  Walsh. 

But  this  business  of  choosing  was  found  to  be. 
very  long  and  very  difficult,  each  one  was  so  fear- 
ful of  not  taking  the  exact  piece  she  wanted  most. 
The  elder  members  of  the  family  began  to  gather 
for  dinner,  and  several  came  and  stood  round  the 
table  where  the  children  were ;  little  noticed  by 
them,  they  were  so  wrapped  up  in  silks  and  satins. 
Ellen  seemed  the  least  interested  person  at  table, 
and  had  made  her    selections  with  the  least    delay 


26  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  difficulty  ;  and  now  as  it  was  not  her  turn,  sat 
very  soberly  looking  on  with  her  head  resting  on 
her  hand. 

"  I  declare  it's  too  vexatious  !  "  said  Margaret 
Dunscombe  ; — "  here  I've  got  this  beautiful  piece 
of  blue  satin,  and  can't  do  anything  with  it ;  it  just 
matches  that  blue  morocco — it's  a  perfect  match — 
I  could  have  made  a  splendid  thing  of  it,  and  I 
have  got  some  cord  and  tassels  that  would  just  do 
— I  declare  it's  too  bad  !  " 

Ellen's  color  changed. 

"  Well,  choose,  Margaret,"  said  Marianne. 

•'  I  don't  know  what  to  choose — that's  the  thing. 
What  can  one  do  with  red  and  purple  morocco  and 
blue  satin  ?  I  might  as  well  give  up.  I've  a  great 
notion  to  take  this  piece  of  yellow  satin  and  dress 
up  a  Turkish  doll  to  frighten  the  next  young  one  I 
meet  with," 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Margaret,  and  give  it  to  me 
when  it's  done,"  cried  little  Ellen  Chauncey. 

"  'Tain't  made  yet,"  said  the  other,  dryly. 

Ellen's  color  had  changed  and  changed  ;  her 
hand  twitched  nervously,  and  she  glanced  uneasily 
from  Margaret's  store  of  finery  to  her  own. 

"  Come,  choose,  Margaret,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey ; 
— '•  I  dare  say  Ellen  wants  the  blue  morocco  as 
much  as  you  do." 

"  No  I  don't  !  "  said  Ellen,  abruptly,  throwing  it 
over  the  table  to  her  ; — "  take  it,  Margaret, — you 
may  have  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  the  other,  %s- 
tounded. 

"  I  mean  you  may  have  it,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  don't 
want  it." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  27 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  the  other,—"  I'll 
give  you  yellow  satin  for  it — or  some  of  my  red 
morocco  ?  " 

"  No,— I  had  rather  not,"  repeated  Ellen  ;— "  I 
don't  want  it — you  may  have  it." 

"  Very  generously  done,"  remarked  Miss  Sophia  ; 
"  I  hope  you'll  all  take  a  lesson  in  the  art  of  being 
obliging." 

"Quite  a  noble  little  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie. 

Ellen  crimsoned.  "  No,  ma'am,  I  am  not  in- 
deed," she  said,  looking  at  them  with  eyes  that 
were  filling  fast, — "  please  don't  say  so — I  don't 
deserve  it." 

"  I  shall  say  what  I  think,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Gillespie,  smiling,  "but  I  am  glad  you  add  the 
grace  of  modesty  to  that  of  generosity  ;  it  is  the 
more  uncommon  of  the  two." 

"  I  am  not  modest  !  I  am  not  generous  !  you 
mustn't  say  so,"  cried  Ellen.  She  struggled;  the 
blood  rushed  to  the  surface,  suffusing  every  particle 
of  skin  that  could  be  seen ; — then  left  it,  as  with 
eyes  cast  down  she  went  on — "  I  don't  deserve  to 
be  praised, — it  was  more  Margaret's  than  mine.  I 
oughtn't  to  have  kept  it  at  all — for  I  saw  a  little 
bit  when  I  put  my  hand  in.  I  didn't  mean  to,  but 
I  did!" 

Raising  her  eyes  hastily  to  Alice's  face,  they  met 
those  of  John,  who  was  standing  behind  her.  She 
had  not  counted  upon  him  for  one  of  her  listeners  ; 
she  knew  Mrs.  Gillespie,  Mrs.  Chauncey,  Miss 
Sophia,  and  Alice  had  heard  her  ;  but  this  was  the 
one  drop  too  much.  Her  head  sunk  ;  she  covered 
her  face  a  moment,  and  then  made  her  escape  out 
of  the  room  before  even  Ellen  could  follow  her. 


28  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Alice  seemed  to 
have  some  difficulty  not  to  follow  Ellen's  example. 
Margaret  pouted ;  Mrs.  Chauncey's  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  her  little  daughter  seemed  divided 
between  doubt  and  dismay.  Her  first  move,  how- 
ever, was  to  run  off  in  pursuit  of  Ellen.  Alice  went 
after  her. 

"  Here's  a  beautiful  example  of  honor  and  honesty 
for  you !  "  said  Margaret  Dunscombe  at  length. 

"  I  think  it  is,"  observed  John,  quietly. 

""  An  uncommon  instance,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

u  I  am  glad  everybody  thinks  so,"  said  Margaret, 
sullenly ;   "  I  hope  I  sha'n't  copy  it,  that's  all." 

"  I  think  you  are  in  no  danger,"  said  John 
again. 

"  Very  well !  "  said  Margaret,  who,  between  her 
desire  of  speaking  and  her  desire  of  concealing  her 
vexation,  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  herself ; — 
"  everybody  must  judge  for  himself,  I  suppose ;  I've 
got  enough  of  her,  for  my  part." 

"  Where  did  you  ever  see  her  before  ? "  said 
Isabel  Hawthorn. 

"  Oh,  she  came  up  the  river  with  us — mamma 
had  to  take  care  of  her — she  was  with  us  two 
days." 

"  And  didn't  you  like  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I  guess  I  didn't !  she  was  a  perfect  plague. 
All  that  day  on  board  the  steamboat  she  scarcely 
came  near  us  ;  we  couldn't  pretend  to  keep  sight 
of  her  ;  mamma  had  to  send  her  maid  out  to  look 
after  her  I  don't  know  how  many  times.  She 
scraped  acquaintance  with  some  strange  man  on 
board  and  liked  his  company  better  than  ours,  for 
she  stayed  with  him  the  whole  blessed  day,  waking 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  29 

and  sleeping ;  of  course  mamma  didn't  like  it  at 
all.  She  didn't  go  to  a  single  meal  with  us ;  you 
know,  of  course,  that  wasn't  proper  behavior." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Isabel. 

'  I  suppose,"  said  John,  coolly,  "  she  chose  the 
society  she  thought  the  pleasantest.  Probably 
Miss  Margaret's  politeness  was  more  than  she  had 
been  accustomed  to." 

Margaret  colored,  not  quite  knowing  what  to 
make  of  the  speaker  or  his  speech. 

"  It  would  take  much  to  make  me  believe,"  said 
gentle  Mrs.  Chauncey,  "  that  a  child  of  such  refined 
and  delicate  feeling  as  that  little  girl  evidently  has, 
could  take  pleasure  in  improper  company." 

Margaret  had  a  reply  at  her  tongue's  end,  but 
she  had  also  an  uneasy  feeling  that  there  were  eyes 
not  far  off  too  keen  of  sight  to  be  baffled  ;  she  kept 
silence  till  the  group  dispersed,  and  she  had  an 
opportunity  of  whispering  in  Marianna's  ear  that 
"  that  was  the  very  most  disagreeable  man  she  had 
ever  seen  in  her  life." 

"  What  a  singular  fancy  you  have  taken  to  this 
little  pet  of  Alice's,  Mr.  John,"  said  Mrs.  Marsh- 
man's  youngest  daughter.    "  You  quite  surprise  me." 

"  Did  you  think  me  a  misanthrope,  Miss  Sophia?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all ;  but  I  always  had  a  notion 
you  would  not  be  easily  pleased  in  the  choice  of 
favorites." 

"  Easily !  When  a  simple  intelligent  child  of 
twelve  or  thirteen  is  a  common  character,  then  I 
will  allow  that  I  am  easily  pleased." 

"  Twelve  or  thirteen  !  "  said  Miss  Sophia  ;  "  what 
are  you  thinking  about  ?  Alice  says  she  is  only  ten 
or  eleven." 


30  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  In  years — perhaps." 

"  How  gravely  you  take  me  up  ! "  said  the  young 
lady,  laughing.  "  My  dear  Mr.  John,  *  in  years 
perhaps,'  you  may  call  yourself  twenty,  but  in 
everything  else  you  might  much  better  pass  for 
thirty  or  forty."  I 

As  they  were  called  to  dinner,  Alice  and  Ellen 
Chauncey  came  back ;  the  former  looking  a  little 
serious,  the  latter  crying,  and  wishing  aloud  that 
all  the  moroccos  had  been  in  the  fire.  They  had 
not  been  able  to  find  Ellen.  Neither  was  she  in 
the  drawing-room  when  they  returned  to  it  after 
dinner  ;  and  a  second  search  was  made  in  vain. 
John  went  to  the  library,  which  was  separate  from 
the  other  rooms,  thinking  she  might  have  chosen 
that  for  a  hiding-place.  She  was  not  there ;  but 
the  pleasant  light  of  the  room,  where  only  the  fire 
was  burning,  invited  a  stay.  He  sat  down  in  the 
deep  window,  and  was  musingly  looking  out  into  the 
moonlight,  when  the  door  softly  opened  and  Ellen 
came  in.  She  stole  in  noiselessly,  so  that  he  did 
not  hear  her,  and  she  thought  the  room  empty  ;  till 
in  passing  slowly  down  toward  the  fire  she  came 
upon  him  in  the  window.  Her  start  first  let  him 
know  she  was  there  ;  she  would  have  run,  but  one  of 
her  hands  was  caught,  and  she  could  not  get  it  away. 

"  Running  away  from  your  brother,  Ellie  !  "  said 
he,  kindly  ;  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Ellen  shrunk  from  meeting  his  eye  and  was 
silent. 

"  I  know  all,  Ellie,"  said  he,  still  very  kindly, — 
,"  I  have  seen  all ; — why  do  you  shun  me  ?  " 

Ellen  said  nothing ;  the  big  tears  began  to  run 
down  her  face  and  frock. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  31 

"  You  are  taking  this  matter  too  hardly,  dear 
Ellen,"  he  said,  drawing  her  close  to  him  5 — "  you 
did  wrong,  but  you  have  done  all  you  could  to  repak 
the  wrong  ; — neither  man  nor  woman  can  do  more 
than  that." 

But,  though  encouraged  by  his  manner,  the  tears 
flowed  faster  than  ever. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  Alice  was  looking  for 
you,  and  little  Ellen  Chauncey  was  in  great  trouble 
I  don't  know  what  dreadful  thing  she  thought  you 
had  done  with  yourself.  Come  ! — lift  up  your 
head  and  let  me  see  you  smile  again." 

Ellen  lifted  her  head,  but  could  not  her  eyes, 
though  she  tried  to  smile. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  .little  about  this,"  said 
he.  "  You  know  you  gave  me  leave  to  be  your 
brother, — will  you  let  me  ask  you  a  question  or 
two?" 

"  Oh,  yes — whatever  you  please,"  Ellen  said. 

"  Then  sit  down  here,"  said  he,  making  room 
for  her  on  the  wide  window-seat,  but  still  keeping 
hold  of  her  hand  and  speaking  very  gently.  "  You 
said  you  saw  when  you  took  the  morocco — I  don't 
quite  understand — how  was  it  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Ellen,  "  we  were  not  to  look,  and 
we  had  gone  three  times  round  and  nobody  had 
got  that  large  piece  yet,  and  we  all  wanted  it ;  and 
I  did  not  mean  to  look  at  all,  but  I  don't  know 
how  it  was,  just  before  I  shut  my  eyes  I  happened 
to  see  the  corner  of  it  sticking  up,  and  then  I  took 
it." 

"  With  your  eyes  open  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  with  them  shut.  And  I  had  scarcely 
got  it  when  I  was  sorry  for  it  and  wished  it  back." 


32  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  You  will  wonder  at  me  perhaps,  Ellie,"  said 
John,  "  but  I  am  not  very  sorry  this  has  happened 
You  are  no  worse  than  before  ; — it  has  only  made 
you  see  what  you  are — very,  very  weak, — quite 
unable  to  keep  yourself  right  without  constant  help. 
Sudden  temptation  was  too  much  for  you — so  it 
has  many  a  time  been  for  me,  and  so  it  has  hap- 
pened to  the  best  men  on  earth.  I  suppose  if  you 
had  had  a  minute's  time  to  think  you  would  not 
have  done  as  you  did  ? " 

"  No,  indeed ! "  said  Ellen.  "  I  was  sorry  a 
minute  after." 

"  And  I  dare  say  the  thought  of  it  weighed  upon 
your  mind  ever  since  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  it  wasn't  out  of  my 
head  a  minute  the  whole  day." 

"  Then  let  it  make  you  very  humble,  dear  Ellie, 
and  let  it  make  you  in  future  keep  close  to  our 
dear  Saviour,  without  whose  help  we  cannot  stand 
a  moment." 

Ellen  sobbed ;  and  he  allowed  her  to  do  so  for  a 
few  minutes,  then  said, 

"  But  you  have  not  been  thinking  much  about 
Him,  Ellie." 

The  sobs  ceased ;  he  saw  his  words  had  taken 
hold. 

"  Is  it  right,"  he  said,  softly,  "  that  we  should  be 
more  troubled  about  what  people  will  think  of  us, 
than  for  having  displeased  or  dishonored  Him  ? " 

Ellen  now  looked  up,  and  in  her  look  was  all  the 
answer  he  wished. 

"  You  understand  me,  I  see,"  said  he.  "  Be 
humbled  in  the  dust  before  Him — the  more  the 
better ;  but  whenever  we  are   greatly   concerned, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  33 

for  our  own  sakes,  about  other  people's  opinion, 
we  may  be  sure  we  are  thinking  too  little  of  God 
and  what  will  please  Him." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  poor  Ellen,  from  whose 
eyes  the  tears  began  to  drop  again, — "  I  am  very 
wrong — but  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  what  Alice 
would  think — and  you — and  all  of  them " 

"  Here's  Alice  to  speak  for  herself,"  said  John. 

As  Alice  came  up  with  a  quick  step  and  knelt 
down  before  her,  Ellen  sprang  to  her  neck,  and 
they  held  each  other  very  fast  indeed.  John  walked 
up  and  down  the  room.  Presently  he  stopped  be- 
fore them. 

"  All's  well  again,"  said  Alice,  "  and  we  are  go- 
ing in  to  tea." 

He  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand,  which  Ellen 
took,  but  he  would  not  leave  the  library,  declaring 
they  had  a  quarter  of  an  hour  still.  So  they 
sauntered  up  and  down  the  long  room,  talking  of 
different  things,  so  pleasantly  that  Ellen  near  for- 
got her  troubles.  Then  came  in  Miss  Sophia  to 
find  them,  and  then  Mr.  Marshman,  and  Marianne 
to  call  them  to  tea ;  so  the  going  into  the  drawing- 
room  was  not  half  so  bad  as  Ellen  thought  it  would 
be. 

She  behaved  very  well ;  her  face  was  touchingly 
humble  that  night ;  and  all  the  evening  she  kept 
fast  by  either  Alice  or  John  without  budging  an 
inch.  And  as  little  Ellen  Chauncey  and  her  cousin 
George  Walsh  chose  to  be  where  she  was,  the 
young  party  was  quite  divided  ;  and  not  the  least 
merry  portion  of  it  was  that  mixed  with  the  older 
people.  Little  Ellen  was  half  beside  herself  with 
spirits ;  the  secret  of  which  perhaps  was  the  fact, 


34  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

which  she  several  times  in  the  course  of  the  even 
ing  whispered  to  Ellen  as  a  great  piece  of  news, 
that  "  it  was  Christmas  eve  !  " 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

As  bees  flee  hame  wi'  lades  o'  treasure, 
The  minutes  winged  their  way  wi'  pleasure. 
Kings  may  be  blest,  but  they  were  glorious, 
O'er  all  the  ills  o'  life  victorious. 

Burns. 

Christmas  morning  was  dawning  gray,  but  it  was 
still  far  from  broad  daylight,  when  Ellen  was 
awakened.  She  found  little  Ellen  Chauncey,  pull- 
ing and  pushing  at  her  shoulders,  and  whispering. 
"  Ellen !  Ellen  !  '* — in  a  tone  that  showed  a  great 
fear  of  waking  somebody  up.  There  she  was,  in 
nightgown  and  night-cap,  and  barefooted,  too,  with 
a  face  brim-full  of  excitement  and  as  wide  awake  as 
possible.  Ellen  roused  herself  in  no  little  surprise, 
and  asked  what  the  matter  was. 

"  I  am  going  to  look  at  my  stocking,"  whispered 
her  visitor,  "  don't  you  want  to  get  up  and  come 
with  me  ?  it's  just  here  in  the  other  room, — come  ! 
— don't  make  any  noise." 

"  But  what  if  you  should  find  nothing  in  it  ?  " 
said  Ellen,  laughingly,  as  she  bounded  out  of  bed. 

"  Ah,  but  I  shall,  I  know  ; — I  always  do  ; — never 
fear.  Hush  !  step  ever  so  softly — I  don't  want  to 
wake  anybody." 

"  It's  hardly  light  enough  for  you  to  see,"  whis- 
pered Ellen,  as  the  two  little  barefooted  white 
figures  glided  out  of  the  room. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is— that's  all  the  fun.  Hush  ! — don't 
make  a  bit  of  noise — I  know  where  it  hangs- 
mamma  always  puts  it  at  the  back  of  her  big  easy* 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  35 

chair — come  this  way — here  it  is  !  Oh,  Ellen  ! 
there's  two  of  'em  !  There's  one  for  you  \  there's 
one  for  you  !  " 

In  a  tumult  of  delight,  one  Ellen  capered  about 
the  floor  on  the  tips  of  her  little  bare  toes,  while  the 
other,  not  less  happy,  stood  still  for  pleasure.  The 
dancer  finished  by  hugging  and  kissing  her  with  all 
her  heart,  declaring  she  was  so  glad  she  didn't  know 
what  to  do. 

"  But  how  shall  we  know  which  is  which  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  they  are  both  alike,"  said  Ellen. 

"  No — at  any  rate  one's  for  me,  and  t'other's  for 
you.  Stop !  here  are  pieces  of  paper,  with  our 
names  on,  I  guess — let's  turn  the  chair  a  little  bit 
to  the  light — there — yes  ! — Ellen — M-o-n, — there, 
that's  yours  ;  my  name  doesn't  begin  with  an  M  ; 
and  this  is  mine  !  " 

Another  caper  round  the  room,  and  then  she 
brought  up  in  front  of  the  chair  where  Ellen  was 
still  standing. 

"  I  wonder  what's  in  'em,"  she  said ;  "  I  want 
to  look,  and  I  don't  want  to.     Come,  you  begin." 

"  But  that's  no  stocking  of  mine,"  said  Ellen,  a 
smile  gradually  breaking  upon  her  sober  little  face  ; 
"  my  leg  never  was  as  big  as  that." 

"  Stuffed,  isn't  it  ?"  said  Ellen  Chauncey.  "  Oh, 
do  make  haste  and  see  what  is  in  yours.  I  want  to 
know  so  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"  Well,  will  you  take  out  of  yours  as  fast  as  I 
take  out  of  mine  ? " 

"  Well ! " 

Oh,  mysterious  delight,  and  delightful  mystery, 
of  the  stuffed  stocking  !  Ellen's  trembling  fingers 
sought  the  top,  and  then  very  suddenly  left  it. 


36  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  I  can't  think  what  it  is,"  said  she,  laughing,— 
"  it  feels  so  funny." 

"  Oh,  never  mind !  make  haste,"  said  Ellen 
Chauncey;  "  it  won't  hurt  you,  I  guess." 

"  No,  it  won't  hurt  me,"  said  Ellen, — "  but f 

She  drew  forth  a  great  bunch  of  white  grapes. 

"  Splendid  !  isn't  it  ? "  said  Ellen  Chauncey. 
"  Now  for  mine." 

It  was  the  counterpart  of  Ellen's  bunch. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  she.     "  Now  for  the  next." 

The  next  thing,  in  each  stocking,  was  a  large 
horn  of  sugar-plums. 

"  Well,  that's  fine,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Ellen  Chaun- 
cey ; — "  yours  is  tied  with  white  ribbon  and  mine 
with  blue  ;  that's  all  the  difference.  Oh,  and  your 
paper's  red  and  mine  is  purple." 

"  Yes,  and  the  pictures  are  different,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,  I  had  rather  they  would  be  different, 
wouldn't  you  ?  I  think  it's  just  as  pleasant.  One's 
as  big  as  the  other,  at  any  rate.  Come — -what's 
next  ? " 

Ellen  drew  out  a  little  bundle,  which,  being 
opened,  proved  to  be  a  nice  little  pair  of  dark  kid 
gloves. 

"  Oh,  I  wonder  who  gave  me  this  !  "  she  said, — 
"  it's  just  what  I  wanted.  How  pretty!  Oh,  I'm 
so  glad.     I  guess  who  it  was." 

"  Oh,  look  here,"  said  the  other  Ellen,  who 
had  been  diving  into  her  stocking, — "  I've  got  a 
ball — this  is  just  what  I  wanted,  too  ;  George  told 
me  if  I'd  get  one  he'd  show  me  how  to  play.  Isn't 
it  pretty  ?  Isn't  it  funny  we  should  each  get  just 
what  we  wanted  ?  Oh,  this  is  a  very  nice  ball. 
I'm  glad  I've  got  it.     Why,  here  is  another  great 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  37 

round  thing  in  my  stocking  ! — what  can  it  be  ?  they 
wouldn't  give  me  two  balls,"  said  she,  chuckling. 

"  So  there  is  in  mine  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  Maybe 
they're  apples  ?  " 

"  They  aren't !  they  wouldn't  give  us  apples ; 
besides,  it  is  soft.     Pull  it  out  and  see." 

"Then  they  are  oranges,"  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  /never  felt  such  a  soft  orange,"  said  little  Ellen 
Chauncey.  "  Come,  Ellen  !  stop  laughing,  and  let's 
see." 

They  were  two  great  scarlet  satin  pincushions, 
with  E.  C.  and  E.  M.  very  neatly  stuck  in  pins. 

"  Well,  we  sha'n't  want  pins  for  a  good  while, 
shall  we  ? "  said  Ellen.     "  Who  gave  us  these  ?  " 

"I  know,"  said  little  Ellen  Chauncey, — "Mrs, 
Bland." 

"  She  was  very  kind  to  make  one  for  me,"  said 
Ellen.     "  Now  for  the  next !  " 

Her  next  thing  was  a  little  bottle  of  Cologne 
water. 

"  I  can  tell  who  put  that  in,"  said  her  friend, — 
u  Aunt  Sophia.  I  know  her  little  bottles  of  Cologne 
water.  Do  you  love  Cologne  water  ?  Aunt  Sophia's 
is  delicious." 

Ellen  did  like  it  very  much,  and  was  extremely 
pleased.  Ellen  Chauncey  had  also  a  new  pair  of 
scissors  which  gave  entire  satisfaction. 

"  Now  I  wonder  what  all  this  toe  is  stuffed  with," 
said  she, — "  raisins  and  almonds,  I  declare  !  and 
yours  the  same,  isn't  it  ?  Well,  don't  you  think  we 
have  got  enough  sweet  things  ?  Isn't  this  a  pretty 
good  Christmas  ? " 

"  What  are  you  about,  you  monkeys  ?  "  cried  the 
voice  of  Aunt  Sophia  from  the  dressing-room  door. 


38  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Alice,  Alice,  do  look  at  them.  Come,  right  back 
to  bed  both  of  you.  Crazy  pates  !  It  is  lucky  it 
is  Christmas  day — if  it  was  any  other  in  the  year 
we  should  have  you  both  sick  in  bed ;  as  it  is,  I 
suppose  you  will  go  scot-free." 

Laughing,  and  rosy  with  pleasure,  they  came 
back  and  got  into  bed  together ;  and  for  an  hour 
afterwards  the  two  kept  up  a  most  animated  conver- 
sation, intermixed  with  long  chuckles  and  bursts 
of  merriment,  and  whispered  communications  of 
immense  importance.  The  arrangement  of  the 
painted  needlebook  was  entirely  decided  upon  in 
this  consultation  ;  also  two  or  three  other  matters  ; 
and  the  two  children  seemed  to  have  already  lived 
a  day  since  daybreak  by  the  time  they  came  down 
to  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  Ellen  applied  secretly  to  Alice 
to  know  if  she  could  write  very  beautifully ;  she 
exceedingly  wanted  something  done. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  venture,  Ellie,  if  it  must  be 
so  superfine ;  but  John  can  do  it  for  you." 

"  Can  he  ?     Do  you  think  he  would  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  if  you  ask  him." 

"  But  I  don't  like  to  ask  him,"  said  Ellen,  casting 
a  doubtful  glance  at  the  window. 

"  Nonsense !  he's  only  reading  the  newspaper. 
You  won't  disturb  him." 

"  Well,  you  won't  say  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

Ellen  accordingly  went  near  and  said,  gently, 
"  Mr.  Humphreys," — but  he  did  not  seem  to  hear 
her.     "  Mr.  Humphreys  !  " — a  little  louder. 

"  He  has  not  arrived  yet,"  said  John,  looking 
round  gravely. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  39 

He  spoke  so  gravely  that  Ellen  could  not  tel! 
whether  he  were  joking  or  serious.  Her  face  of 
extreme  perplexity  was  too  much  for  his  command 
of  countenance.  "  Whom  do  you  want  to  speak 
to  ?  "  said  he,  smiling. 

"  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  "  if 
you  are  not  too  busy." 

"  Mr.  Humphreys  is  always  busy,"  said  he,  shak- 
ing his  head  ;  "  but  Mr.  John  can  attend  to  you  any 
time,  and  John  will  do  for  you  whatever  you  please 
to  ask  him." 

"  Then,  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  if  you 
please  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  do  something  for  me 
very  much  indeed,  if  you  are  not  too  busy ;  Alice 
said  I  shouldn't  disturb  you." 

"  Not  at  all ;  I've  been  long  enough  over  this 
stupid  newspaper.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  I  want  you,  if  you  will  be  so  good,"  said  Ellen, 
"  to  write  a  little  bit  for  me  on  something,  very 
beautifully." 

"  '  Very  beautifully  ! '  Well — come  to  the  library ; 
we  will  see." 

"  But  it  is  a  great  secret,"  said  Ellen ;  "  you 
won't  tell  anybody  ? " 

"  Tortures  sha'n't  draw  it  from  me — when  I 
know  what  it  is,"  said  he,  with  one  of  his  comical 
looks. 

In  high  glee  Ellen  ran  for  the  pieces  of  Bristol 
board  which  were  to  form  the  backs  of  the  needle- 
book,  and  brought  them  to  the  library  ;  and  ex- 
plained how  room  was  to  be  left  in  the  middle  of 
each  for  a  painting — a  rose  on  one,  a  butterfly  on 
the  other  ;  the  writing  to  be  as  elegant  as  possible, 


40  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

above,  beneath,  and  roundabout,  as  the  fancy  of 
the  writer  should  choose. 

"Well,  what  is  to  be  J  inscribed  on  this  most 
original  of  needlebooks  ?  "  said  John,  as  he  care- 
fully mended  his  pen. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Ellen,—"  I'll  tell  you  in  a  minute- 
on  this  one,  the  front  you  know,  is  to  go,  '  To  my 
dear  mother,  many  happy  New  Years  ;  " — and  on 
this  side,  'From  her  dear  little  daughter,  Ellen 
Chauncey.'  You  know,"  she  added,  "  Mrs  Chaun- 
cey  isn't  to  know  anything  about  it  till  New  Year's 
day;  nor  anybody  else." 

"  Trust  me,"  said  John.  "  If  I  am  asked  any 
questions  they  shall  find  me  as  obscure  as  an 
oracle." 

"  What  is  an  oracle,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  John,  smiling,  "  this  pen  won't  do 
yet — the  old  heathens  believed  there  were  certain 
spots  of  earth  to  which  some  of  their  gods  had 
more  favor  than  to  others,  and  where  they  would 
permit  mortals  to  come  nearer  to  them,  and  would 
even  deign  to  answer  their  questions." 

"  And  did  they  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Did  they  what  ?  " 

"  Did  they  answer  their  questions  ? 

"  Did  who  answer  their  questions  ?  " 

"  The — oh  !  to  be  sure,"  said  Ellen, — "  there 
were  no  such  gods.  But  what  made  people  think 
they  answered  them  ?  and  how  could  they  ask 
questions  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  a  contrivance  of  the  priests  to 
increase  their  power  and  wealth.  There  was  al- 
ways a  temple  built  near,  with  priests  and  priest- 
esses ;  the  questions  were  put  through  them  ;  and 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD,  41 

^,ey  would  not  ask  them  except  on  great  occa- 
sions, or  for  people  of  consequence  who  could  pay 
them  well  by  making  splendid  gifts  to  the  god." 

"  But  I  should  think  the  people  would  have 
thought  the  priest  or  priestess  had  made  up  the 
answers  themselves." 

"  Perhaps  they  did  sometimes.  But  people  had 
not  the  Bible  then,  and  did  not  know  as  much  as 
we  know.  It  was  not  unnatural  to  think  the  gods 
would  care  a  little  for  the  poor  people  that  lived  on 
the  earth.  Besides,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  man- 
agement and  trickery  about  the  answers  of  the 
oracle  that  helped  to  deceive." 

"  How  was  it  ?  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  how  could  they 
manage  ?  and  what  was  the  oracle •?  " 

"  The  oracle  was  either  the  answer  itself,  or  the 
god  who  was  supposed  to  give  it,  or  the  place 
where  it  was  given  ;  and  there  were  different  ways 
of  managing.  At  one  place  the  priest  hid  himself 
in  the  hollow  body  or  among  the  branches  of  an 
oak  tree,  and  people  thought  the  tree  spoke  to 
them.  Sometimes  the  oracle  was  delivered  by  a 
woman  who  pretended  to  be  put  into  a  kind  of  fit 
— tearing  her  hair  and  beating  her  breast." 

"  But  suppose  the  oracle  made  a  mistake  ?— 
what  would  the  people  think  then  ?  " 

"  The  answers  were  generally  contrived  so  that 
they  would  seem  to  come  true  in  any  event." 

"  I  don't  see  how  they  could  do  that,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Very  well — just  imagine  that  I  am  an  oracle, 
and  come  to  me  with  some  question  ; — I'll  answer 
you." 

"  But  you  can't  tell  what's  going  to  happen  ?  " 


4.2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  No  matter — you  ask  me  truly,  and  I'll  answel 
you  oracularly." 

"  That  means,  like  an  oracle,  I  suppose  ?  "  said 
Ellen.  "Well— Mr.  John,  will  Alice  be  pleased 
with  what  I  am  going  to  give  her  new  New  Year  ?  " 

"  She  will  be  pleased  with  what  she  will  receive 
on  that  day." 

"  Ah,  but,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  that  isn't  fair  ; 
you  haven't  answered  me  ;  perhaps  somebody  else 
will  give  her  something,  and  then  she  might  be 
pleased  with  that  and  not  with  mine." 

"  Exactly — but  the  oracle  never  means  to  be 
understood." 

"  Well,  I  won't  come  to  you,"  said  Ellen.  "  I 
don't  like  such  answers.  Now  for  the  needle- 
book  !  " 

Breathlessly  she  looked  on,  while  the  skillful 
pen  did  its  work  ■  and  her  exclamations  of  delight 
and  admiration  when  the  first  cover  was  handed  to 
her  were  not  loud  but  deep. 

"  It  will  do  then,  will  it  ?  Now  let  us  see — '  From 
her  dear  little  daughter,' — there — now  '  Ellen 
Chauncey,'  I  suppose,  must  be  in  hieroglyphics." 

"  In  what  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  I  mean,  written  in  some  difficult  character." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen.  "  But  what  was  that  you 
said  ? " 

"  Hieroglyphics  ? " 

Ellen  added  no  more,  though  she  was  not  satis* 
fied.     He  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what  that  means  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  said  Ellen. 

The  pen  was  laid  down  while  he  explained,  to  a 
most  eager  little  listener.     Even  the  great  business 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  43 

of  the  moment  was  forgotten.  From  hieroglyphics 
they  went  to  the  pyramids  ;  and  Ellen  had  got  to 
the  top  of  one  and  was  enjoying  the  prospect  (in 
imagination)  when  she  suddenly  came  down  to  tell 
John  of  her  stuffed  stocking  and  its  contents.  The 
pen  went  on  again,  and  came  to  the  end  of  the 
writing  by  the  time  Ellen  had  got  to  the  toe  of  the 
stocking. 

"  Wasn't  it  very  strange  they  should  give  me  so 
many  things  ?  "  said  she  ; — "  people  that  don't 
know  me  ? " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  John,  smiling, — "  I  cannot  say 
I  think  it  was  very  strange.  Is  this  all  the  busi- 
ness you  had  for  my  hands  ?  " 

"  This  is  all  •  and  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you,  Mr.  John." 

Her  grateful,  affectionate  eye  said  much  more, 
and  he  felt  well  paid. 

Gilbert  was  next  applied  to,  to  paint  the  rose  and 
the  butterfly,  which,  finding  so  elegant  a  beginning 
made  in  the  work,  he  was  very  ready  to  do.  The 
girls  were  then  free  to  set  about  the  embroidery  of 
the  leaves,  which  was  by  no  means  the  business  of 
an  hour. 

A  very  happy  Christmas  day  was  that.  With 
their  needles  and  thimbles,  and  rose-colored  silk, 
they  kept  by  themselves  in  a  corner,  or  in  the 
library,  out  of  the  way  ;  and  sweetening  their  talk 
with  a  sugar-plum  now  and  then,  neither  tongues 
nor  needles  knew  any  flagging.  It  was  wonderful 
that  they  found  so  much  to  say,  but  there  was  no 
lack.  Ellen  Chauncey  especially  was  inexhaustible. 
Several  times  too  that  day  the  Cologne  bottle  was 
handled,  the  gloves  looked  at  and  fondled,  the  ball 


44  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

tried,  and  the  new  scissors  extolled  as  "just  the 
thing  for  their  work." .  Ellen  attempted  to  let  her 
companion  into  the  mystery  of  oracles  and  hiero- 
glyphics, but  was  fain  to  give  it  up ;  little  Ellen 
showed  a  decided  preference  for  American,  not  to 
say  Ventnor,  subjects,  where  she  felt  more  at  home. 
Then  came  Mr.  Humphreys  ;  and  Ellen  was  glad, 
both  for  her  own  sake  and  because  she  loved  to 
see  Alice  pleased.  Then  came  the  great  merry 
Christmas  dinner,  when  the  girls  had  not  talked: 
themselves  out,  but  tired  themselves  with  working. 
Young  and  old  dined  together  to-day,  and  the  chil- 
dren not  set  by  themselves  but  scattered  among 
the  grown-up  people ;  and  as  Ellen  was  nicely 
placed  between  Alice  and  little  Ellen  Chauncey, 
she  enjoyed  it  all  very  much.  The  large  long  table 
surrounded  with  happy  faces ;  tones  of  cheerful- 
ness, and  looks  of  kindness,  and  lively  talk;  the 
superb  display  of  plate  and  glass  and  china  ;  the 
stately  dinner ;  and  last  but  not  least,  the  plum  pud- 
ding. There  was  sparkling  wine  too,  and  a  great 
deal  of  drinking  of  healths  ;  but  Ellen  noticed  that 
Alice  and  her  brother  smilingly  drank  all  theirs 
in  water  ;  so  when  old  Mr.  Marshman  called  to  her 
to  "  hold  out  her  glass,"  she  held  it  out  to  be  sure 
and  let  him  fill  it,  but  she  lifted  her  tumbler  of 
water  to  her  lips  instead,  after  making  him  a  very 
low  bow.  Mr.  Marshman  laughed  at  her  a  great 
deal,  and  asked  her  if  she  was  "  a  proselyte  to  the 
new  notions  ;  "  and  Ellen  laughed  with  him,  with- 
out having  the  least  idea  what  he  meant,  and  was. 
extremely  happy.  It  was  very  pleasant,  too,  when 
they  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  take  coffee. 
The  young  ones  were  permitted  to  have  coffee  to* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  45 

night  as  a  great  favor.  Old  Mrs.  Marshman  had 
the  two  little  ones  on  either  side  of  her ;  and  was 
so  kind,  and  held  Ellen's  hand  in  her  own,  and 
talked  to  her  about  her  mother,  till  Ellen  loved  her. 

After  tea  there  was  a  great  call  for  games,  and 
young  and  old  joined  in  them.  They  played  the 
Old  Curiosity  Shop  ;  and  Ellen  thought  Mr.  John's 
curiosity  could  not  be  matched.  They  played  the 
Old  Family  Coach,  Mr.  Howard  Marshman  being 
the  manager,  and  Ellen  laughed  till  she  was  tired  ; 
she  was  the  coach  door,  and  he  kept  her  opening 
and  shutting  and  swinging  and  breaking,  it  seemed, 
all  the  while,  though  most  of  the  rest  were  worked 
just  as  hard.  When  they  were  well  tired  they  sat 
down  to  rest  and  hear  music,  and  Ellen  enjoyed 
that  exceedingly.  Alice  sang,  and  Mrs.  Gillespie, 
and  Miss  Sophia,  and  another  lady,  and  Mr.  How- 
ard ;  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  three  or  four  or 
all  together. 

At  last  came  ten  o'clock,  and  the  young  ones 
were  sent  off ;  and  from  beginning  to  end  that  had 
been  a  Christmas  day  of  unbroken  and  unclouded 
pleasure.  Ellen's  last  act  was  to  take  another  look 
at  her  Cologne  bottle,  gloves,  pincushion,  grapes, 
and  paper  of  sugar-plums,  which  were  laid  side  by 
side  carefully  in  a  drawer. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

But  though  life's  valley  be  a  vale  of  tears, 
A  brighter  scene  beyond  that  vale  appears, 
Whose  glory,  with  a  light  that  never  fades, 
Shoots  between  scattered  rocks  and  opening  shade*. 

Cowper. 

Mr.  Humphreys  was  persuaded  to  stay  over 
Sunday  at  Ventnor ;    and  it  was    also    settled  that 


4.6  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

his  children  should  not  leave  it  till  after  New  Year. 
This  was  less  their  own  wish  than  his ;  he  said 
Alice  wanted  the  change,  and  he  wished  she  looked 
a  little  fatter.  Besides,  the  earnest  pleadings  of 
the  whole  family  were  not  to  be  denied.  Ellen  was 
very  glad  of  this,  though  there  was  one  drawback 
to  the  pleasure  of  Ventor, — she  could  not  feel  quite 
at  home  with  any  of  the  young  people  but  only 
Ellen  Chauncey  and  her  cousin  George  Walsh. 
This  seemed  very  strange  to  her ;  she  almost 
thought  Margaret  Dunscombe  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it  all,  but  she  recollected  she  had  felt  something  of 
this  before  Margaret  came.  She  tried  to  think 
nothing  about  it ;  and  in  truth  it  was  not  able  to 
prevent  her  from  being  very  happy.  The  breach, 
however,  was  destined  to  grow  wider. 

About  four  miles  from  Ventnor  was  a  large  town 
called  Randolph.  Thither  they  drove  to  church 
Sunday  morning,  the  whole  family ;  but  the  hour 
of  dinner  and  the  distance  prevented  any  one  from 
going  in  the  afternoon.  The  members  of  the  family 
were  scattered  in  different  parts  of  the  house,  most 
in  their  own  rooms.  Ellen,  with  some  difficulty, 
made  her  escape  from  her  young  companions,  whose 
manner  of  spending  the  time  did  not  satisfy  her 
notions  of  what  was  right  on  that  day,  and  went  to 
look  in  the  library  for  her  friends.  They  were 
there,  and  alone ;  Alice  half  reclining  on  the  sofa, 
half  in  her  brother's  arms  ;  he  was  reading  or  talking 
to  her ;  there  was  a  book  in  his  hand. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  "  said  Ellen,  as  she 
drew  near  ;  "  aren't  you  well,  dear  Alice  ? — Head- 
ache ?  oh,  I  am  sorry.     Oh  !  I  know " 

She  darted  away.     In  two  minutes  she  was  back 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  47 

again  with  a  pleased  face,  her  bunch  of  grapes  in 
one  hand,  her  bottle  of  Cologne  water  in  the  other. 

"Won't  you  open  that,  please,  Mr.  John,"  said 
she; — "I  can't  open  it;  I  guess  it  will  do  her 
good,  for  Ellen  says  it's  delicious.  Mamma  used 
to  have  Cologne  water  for  her  headaches.  And 
here,  dear  Alice,  won't  you  eat  these  ? — do  ! — try 
one." 

"  Hasn't  that  bottle  been  opened  yet  ? "  said 
Alice,  as  she  smilingly  took  a  grape. 

"  Why,  no,  to  be  sure  it  hasn't.  I  wasn't  going 
to  open  it  till  I  wanted  it.  Eat  them  all,  dear  Alice, 
— please  do  !  " 

"  But  I  don't  think  you  have  eaten  one  yourself, 
Ellen,  by  the  look  of  the  bunch.  And  here  are  a 
great  many,  too  many  for  me." 

"  Yes,  I  have,  I've  eaten  two  ;  I  don't  want  'em. 
I  give  them  all  to  you  and  Mr.  John.  I  had  a 
great  deal  rather  !  " 

Ellen  took,  however,  as  precious  payment,  Alice's 
look  and  kiss ;  and  then  with  a  delicate  conscious- 
ness that  perhaps  the  brother  and  sister  might  like 
to  be  alone,  she  left  the  library.  She  did  not  know 
where  to  go,  for  Miss  Sophia  was  stretched  on  the 
bed  in  her  room,  and  she  did  not  want  any  company. 

At  last,  with  her  little  Bible,  she  placed  herself 
on  the  old  sofa  in  the  hall  above  stairs,  which  was 
perfectly  well  warmed,  and  for  some  time  she  was 
left  there  in  peace.  It  was  pleasant,  after  all  the 
hubbub  of  the  morning,  to  have  a  little  quiet  time 
that  seemed  like  Sunday  ;  and  the  sweet  Bible 
words  came,  as  they  often  now  came  to  Ellen,  with 
a  healing  breath.  But  after  half  an  hour  or  so,  to 
her  dismay  she  heard  a  door  open  and  the  whole 


48  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

gang  of  children  come  trooping  into  the  hall  below, 
where  they  soon  made  such  a  noise  that  reading  or 
thinking  was  out  of  the  question. 

"  What  a  bother  it  is  that  one  can't  play  games 
on  a  Sunday !  "  said  Marianne  Gillespie. 

"  One  can  play  games  on  a  Sunday,"  answered 
her  brother.  "  Where's  the  odds  ?  It's  all  Sunday's 
good  for,  /think." 

"  William  ! — William  !  "  sounded  the  shocked 
voice  of  little  Ellen  Chauncey, — "  you  are  a  real 
wicked  boy  !  " 

"  Wrell,  now !  "  said  William, — "  how  am  I  wicked  ? 
Now  say, — I  should  like  to  know.  How  is  it  any 
more  wicked  for  us  to  play  games  than  it  is  for 
Aunt  Sophia  to  lie  abed  and  sleep,  or  for  Uncle 
Howard  to  read  novels,  or  for  grandpa  to  talk 
politics,  or  for  mother  to  talk  about  the  fashions  ? — 
there  were  she  and  Miss  What's-her-name  for  ever 
so  long  this  morning  doing  everything  but  make  a 
dress.     Now  which  is  the  worst  ?  " 

"  Oh,  William  !— William  !— for  shame  !  for 
shame  !  "  said  Ellen  again. 

"  Do  hush,  Ellen  Chauncey  !  will  you  ?  "  said 
Marianne,  sharply  ; — "  and  you  had  better  hush 
too,  William,  if  you  know  what  is  good  for  yourself. 
I  don't  care  whether  it's  right  or  wrong,  I  do  get 
dolefully  tired  with  doing  nothing." 

"  Oh,  so  do  I  !  "  said  Margaret,  yawning.  "  I 
wish  one  could  sleep  all  Sunday." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  George,  "  I  know  a 
game  we  can  play,  and  no  harm  either,  for  it's  all 
out  of  the  Bible." 

"  Oh,  do  you  ? — let's  hear  it,  George,"  cried  th« 
girls. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  49 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  good  for  anything  if  it  is 
out  of  the  Bible,"  said  Margaret.  "  Now  stare, 
Ellen  Chauncey,  do ! 

"I  aint  staring,"  said  Ellen,  indignantly, — "but 
I  don't  believe  it  is  right  to  play  it,  if  it  is  out  of 
the  Bible." 

"  Well,  it  is,  though,"  said  George.  "  Now  listen  ; 
— I'll  think  of  somebody  in  the  Bible, — some  man 
or  woman,  you  know  ;  and  you  all  may  ask  me 
twenty  questions  about  him  to  see  if  you  can  find 
out  who  it  is." 

"  What  kind  of  questions  ?  " 

"  Any  kind  of  questions — whatever  you  like." 

"  That  will  improve  your  knowledge  of  Scripture 
history,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  To  be  sure ;  and  exercise  our  memory,"  said 
Isabel  Hawthorn. 

"  Yes,  and  then  we  are  thinking  of  good  people 
and  what  they  did,  all  the  time,"  said  little  Ellen. 

"Or  bad  people  and  what  they  did,"  said 
William. 

"  But  I  don't  know  enough  about  people  and 
things  in  the  Bible,"  said  Margaret ;  "  I  couldn't 
guess." 

"  Oh,  never  mind — it  will  be  all  the  more  fun," 
said  George.  "  Come  !  let's  begin.  Who'll  take 
somebody  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  think  this  will  be  fine !  "  said  little 
Chauncey; — "but,  Ellen — where's  Ellen? — we 
want  her." 

"  No,  we  don't  want  her ! — we've  enough  with- 
out her — she  won't  play  !  "  shouted  William,  as  the 
little  girl  ran  upstairs.  She  persevered,  however. 
Ellen  had  left  her  sofa  before  this,  and  was  found 


5o  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

seated  on  the  foot  of  her  bed.  As  far  and  as  long 
as  she  could,  she  withstood  her  little  friend's  en- 
treaties, and  very  unwillingly  at  last  yielded  and 
went  with  her  downstairs. 

"  Now  we  are  ready,"  said  little  Ellen  Chauncey  ; 
"  I  have  told  Ellen  what  the  game  is ;  who's  going 
to  begin  ?  " 

"We  have  begun,"  said  William.  "  Gilbert  has 
thought  of  somebody.     Man  or  woman  ? " 

"  Man." 

"  Young  or  old  ?  " 

"  Why — he  was  young  first  and  old  afterwards." 

"  Pshaw,  William  !  what  a  ridiculous  question," 
said  his  sister.  "  Besides,  you  mustn't  ask  more 
than  one  at  a  time.     Rich  or  poor,  Gilbert  ? " 

"  Humph ! — why,  I  suppose  he  was  moderately 
well  off.  I  dare  say  I  should  think  myself  a  lucky 
fellow  if  I  had  as  much." 

"  Are  you  answering  truly,  Gilbert  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor  !  " 

"Was  he  in  a  high  or  low  station  of  life? "  asked 
Miss  Hawthorn. 

"  Neither  at  the  top  nor  the  bottom  of  the  ladder 
— a  very  respectable  person,  indeed." 

"  But  we  are  not  getting  on,"  said  Margaret ; 
"  according  to  you,  he  wasn't  anything  in  particular  ; 
what  kind  of  a  person  was  he,  Gilbert  ? " 

"  A  very  good  man." 

"  Handsome  or  ugly  ?  " 

"  History  don't  say." 

"  Well,  what  does  it  say  ?  "  said  George, — "  what 
did  he  do  ?  " 

"  He  took  a  journey  once  upon  a  time." 

"  What  for  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  51 

"  Do  you  mean  why  he  went,  or  what  was  the 
object  of  his  going  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  one's  the  same  as  the  other,  ain't 
it?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Well,  what  was  the  object  of  his  going  ?  " 

"  He  went  after  a  wife." 

"  Samson  !  Samson  !  "  shouted  William  and 
Isabel  and  Ellen  Chauncey. 

"  No — it  wasn't  Samson,  either." 

u  I  can't  think  of  anybody  else  that  went  after  a 
wife,"  said  George.  "That  king  —  what's  his 
name  ? — that  married  Esther  ?  " 

The  children  screamed.  "  He  didn't  go  after  a 
wife,  George, — his  wives  were  brought  to  him. 
Was  it  Jacob  ?  " 

"  No — he  didn't  go  after  a  wife  either,"  said 
Gilbert ;  "  he  married  two  of  them,  but  he  didn't 
go  to  his  uncle's  to  find  them.  You  had  better  go 
on  with  your  questions.  You  have  had  eight  already. 
If  you  don't  look  out  you  won't  catch  me.     Come  !  " 

"  Did  he  get  the  wife  that  he  went  after  ?  "  asked 
Ellen  Chauncey. 

"  He  was  never  married  that  I  know  of,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"  What  was  the  reason  he  failed  ?  "  said  Isabel. 

"  He  did  not  fail." 

"  Did  he  bring  home  his  wife  then  ? — you  said 
he  wasn't  married." 

"  He  never  was,  that  I  know  of ;  but  he  brought 
home  a  Wife,  notwithstanding." 

"  But  how  funny  you  are,  Gilbert,"  said  little 
Ellen, — "  he  had  a  wife  and  he  hadn't  a  wife  ; — what 
became  of  her  ?  " 


52  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  She  lived  and  flourished.  Twelve  questions: 
— take  care." 

"  Nobody  asked  what  country  he  was  of,"  said 
Margaret, — "  what  was  he,  Gilbert  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  Damascene." 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"  Of  Damascus — of  Damascus.  You  know  where 
Damascus  is,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Fiddle  !  "  said  Marianne, — "  I  thought  he  was 
a  Jew.     Did  he  live  before  or  after  the  flood  ?  " 

"  After.  I  should  think  you  might  have  known 
that." 

"  Well,  I  can't  make  out  anything  about  him," 
said  Marianne.     "  We  shall  have  to  give  it  up." 

"No,  no, — not  yet,"  said  William.  "WThere  did 
he  go  after  his  wife  ?  " 

"  Too  close  a  question." 

"  Then,  that  don't  count.  Had  he  ever  seen  her 
before  ? " 

"  Never." 

"  Was  she  willing  to  go  with  him  ?  " 

"  Very  willing.  Ladies  always  are,  when  they 
go  to  be  married." 

"  And  what  became  of  her  ?  " 

"  She  was  married  and  lived  happily, — as  I  told 
you." 

"  But  you  said  he  wasn't  married  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  I  didn't  say  she  married 
kim." 

"  Whom  did  she  marry  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  asking  the  whole  ;  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  Had  they  far  to  go  ?  "  asked  Isabel. 

"  Several  days'  journey, — I  don't  know  how  far." 

"  How  did  they  travel  ? " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO-RLDl  53 

"On  camels." 

"  Was  it  the  Queen  of  Sheba  I "  said  little 
Ellen. 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  at  this  happy 
thought,  and  poor  little  Ellen  declared  she  forgot 
all  about  the  journey  ;  she  remembered  the  Queen 
of  Sheba  had  taken  a  journey,  and  the  camels  in 
the  picture  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  that  made 
her  think  of  her. 

The  children  gave  up.  Questioning  seemed 
hopeless  ;  and  Gilbert  at  last  told  them  his  thought. 
It  was  Eleazar,  Abraham's  steward,  whom  he  sent 
to  fetch  a  wife  for  his  son  Isaac. 

"  Why  haven't  you  guessed,  little  mumchance  ?"* 
said  Gilbert  to  Ellen  Montgomery. 

"  I  have  guessed,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  knew  who  it 
was  some  time  ago." 

"  Then,  why  didn't  you  say  so  ?  and  you  haven't 
asked  a  single  question,"  said  George. 

"  No,  you  haven't  asked  a  single  question,"  said 
Ellen  Chauncey. 

"  She  is  a  great  deal  too  good  for  that,"  said 
William  ;  "  she  thinks  it  is  wicked,  and  that  we  are 
not  at  all  nice,  proper-behaved  boys  and  girls,  to 
be  playing  on  Sunday  ;  she  is  very  sorry  she  could 
not  help  being  amused." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  wicked,  Ellen  ?  "  asked  her 
little  friend. 

"  Do  you  think  it  isn't  right  ? "  said  George 
Walsh. 

Ellen  hesitated  ;  she  saw  they  were  all  waiting  to 
hear  what  she  would  say.  She  colored,  and  looked 
down  at  her  little  Bible,  which  was  still  in  her  hand. 
It  encouraged  her. 


54  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  rude,"  she  began: 
— "  I  don't  think  it  is  quite  right  to  play  such  plays, 
or  any  plays." 

She  was  attacked  with  impatient  cries  of  "  Why 
not  ?  "    "  Why  not  ?  " 

'k  Because,"  said  Ellen,  trembling  with  the  effort 
she  made, — "  I  think  Sunday  was  meant  to  be  spent 
in  growing  better,  and  learning  good  things  ;  and  I 
don't  think  such  plays  would  help  one  at  all  to  do 
that ;  and  I  have  a  kind  of  feeling  that  I  ought  not 
to  do  it." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you'll  act  according  to  your  feel- 
ings then,"  said  William  ;  "  I  am  sure  nobody  has 
any  objection.  You  had  better  go  somewhere  else, 
though,  for  we  are  going  on  ;  we  have  been  learn- 
ing to  be  good  long  enough  for  one  day.  Come  !  I 
have  thought  of  somebody." 

Ellen  could  not  help  feeling  hurt  and  sorry  at  the 
half  sneer  she  saw  in  the  look  and  manner  of  the 
others,  as  well  as  in  William's  words.  She  wished 
for  no  better  than  to  go  away,  but  as  she  did  so  her 
bosom  swelled,  and  the  tears  started  and  her  breath 
came  quicker.  She  found  Alice  tying  down  and 
asleep,  Miss  Sophia  beside  her ;  so  she  stole  out 
again,  and  went  down  to  the  library.  Finding  no- 
body, she  took  possession  of  the  sofa,  and  tried  to 
read  again  ;  reading,  somehow,  did  not  go  well,  and 
she  fell  to  musing  on  what  had  just  passed.  She 
thought  of  the  unkindness  of  the  children  ;  how 
sure  she  was  it  was  wrong  to  spend  any  part  of 
Sunday  in  such  games  ;  what  Alice  would  think  of 
it,  and  John,  and  her  mother ;  and  how  the  Sundays 
long  ago  used  to  be  spent,  when  that  dear  mother 
was  with  her  ;  and  then  she  wondered  how  she  was 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  55, 

passing  this  very  one, — while  Ellen  was  sitting  here 
in  the  library  alone,  what  she  was  doing  in  that  far- 
away land ;  and  she  thought  if  there  only  were  such 
things  as  oracles  that  could  tell  truly,  how  much 
she  should  like  to  ask  about  her. 

"  Ellen  !  "  said  the  voice  of  John  from  the  window. 

She  started  up ;  she  had  thought  she  was  alone ; 
but  there  he  was  lying  in  the  window-seat. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Come  here.  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  I 
didn't  know  you  were  there  till  I  heard  two  or  three 
very  long  sighs.  What  is  the  matter  with  my  little 
sister  ?  " 

He  took  her  hand  and  drew  her  fondly  up  to  him. 
"  What  were  you  thinking  about  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  about  different  things, — nothing 
is  the  matter,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Then  what  are  those  tears  in  your  eyes  for  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  laughing, — "  there 
weren't  any  till  I  came  here.  I  was  thinking  just 
now  about  mamma." 

He  said  no  more,  still,  however,  keeping  her 
beside  him. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Ellen,  presently,  after  a 
few  minutes'  musing  look  out  of  the  window,  "it 
would  be  very  pleasant  if  there  were  such  things 
as  oracles — don't  you,  Mr.  John  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  wouldn't  you  like  to  know  something  about 
what's  going  to  happen  ?  " 

"  I  do  know  a  great  deal  about  it." 

"  About  what  is  going  to  happen  ! " 

He  smiled. 


56  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Yes — a  great  deal,  Ellie, — enough  to  give  me 
work  for  all  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  from  the  Bible  ! — I  was  thinking 
of  other  things." 

"  It  is  best  not  to  know  the  other  things,  Ellie  ; — ■ 
I  am  very  glad  to  know  those  the  Bible  teaches  us." 

"  But  it  doesn't  tell  us  much,  does  it  ?  What 
does  it  tell  us  ? " 

"  Go  to  the  window  and  tell  me  what  you  see." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  in  particular,"  said  Ellen,, 
after  taking  a  grave  look-out. 

"  Well,  what  in  general  ? " 

"  Why,  there  is  the  lawn  covered  with  snow,  and 
the  trees  and  bushes  ;  and  the  sun  is  shining  on 
everything  just  as  it  did  the  day  we  came  ;  and 
there's  the  long  shadow  of  that  hemlock  across  the 
snow,  and  the  blue  sky." 

"  Now,  look  out  again,  Ellie,  and  listen.  I  know 
that  a  day  is  to  come  when  those  heavens  shall  be 
wrapped  together  as  a  scroll — they  shall  vanish 
away  like  smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a 
garment ;: — and  it  and  all  the  works  that  are  therein 
shall  be  burned  up." 

As  he  spoke,  Ellen's  fancy  tried  to  follow, — to 
picture  the  ruin  and  desolation  of  all  that  stood  so 
fair  and  seemed  to  stand  so  firm  before  her ; — but 
the  sun  shone  on,  the  branches  waved  gently  in  the 
wind,  the  shadows  lay  still  on  the  snow,  and  the 
blue  heaven  was  fair  and  cloudless.  Fancy  was 
baffled.     She  turned  from  the  window. 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ? "  said  John. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,—"  I  know  it ;  but  I  think  it 
is  very  disagreeable  to  think  about  it." 

"  It  would  be,  Ellie,"  said  he,  bringing  her  again 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  53 

to  his  side, — "  very  disagreeable, — very  miserable, 
indeed,  if  we  knew  no  more  than  that.  But  we 
know  more — read  here." 

Ellen  took  his  little  Bible  and  read  at  the  open 
place. 

"  J  Behold,  I  create  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth,  and  the  former  shall  not  be  remembered, 
neither  come  into  mind.'  " 

"  Why  won't  they  be  remembered  ?  "  said  Ellen  ; 
— "  shall  we  forget  all  about  them  ? " 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  that  is  meant.  The  new 
heavens  and  the  new  earth  will  be  so  much  more 
lovely  and  pleasant  that  we  shall  not  want  to  think 
of  these." 

Ellen's  eye  sought  the  window  again. 

"  You  are  thinking  that  is  hardly  possible  ?  "  said 
John,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  possible"  said  Ellen, — "  but " 

"  But  lovely  as  this  world  is,  Ellie,  man  has 
filled  it  with  sin,  and  sin  has  everywhere  brought 
its  punishment,  and  under  the  weight  of  both  the 
earth  groans.  There  will  be  no  sin  there ;  sorrow 
and  sighing  shall  flee  away;  love  to  each  other  and 
love  to  their  blessed  King  will  fill  all  hearts,  and 
His  presence  will  be  with  them.  Don't  you  see 
that  even  if  that  world  shall  be  in  itself  no  better 
than  this,  it  will  yet  be  far,  far  more  lovely  than 
this  can  ever  be  with  the  shadow  of  sin  upon 
it?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  I  know,  whenever  I 
feel  wrong  in  any  way,  nothing  seems  pretty  or 
pleasant  to  me,  or  not  half  so  much." 

"  Very  well,"  said  John, — "  I  see  you  understand 
me.    I  like  to  think  of  that  land,  Ellen, — very  much." 


58  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen,—"  don't  you  thin* 
people  will  know  each  other  again  ? " 

"  Those  that  love  each  other  here  ? — I  have  no 
doubt  of  it." 

Before  either  John  or  Ellen  had  broken  the  long 
musing  fit  that  followed  these  words,  they  were 
joined  by  Alice.  Her  head  was  better ;  and  taking 
her  place  in  the  window-seat,  the  talk  began  again, 
between  the  brother  and  sister  now;  Ellen  too 
happy  to  sit  with  them  and  listen.  They  talked  of 
that  land  again,  of  the  happy  company  preparing 
for  it ;  of  their  dead  mother,  but  not  much  of  her  ; 
of  the  glory  of  their  King,  and  the  joy  of  His 
service,  even  here  ; — till  thoughts  grew  too  strong 
for  words,  and  silence  again  stole  upon  the  group. 
The  short  winter  day  came  to  an  end  ;  the  sun- 
light faded  away  into  moonlight.  No  shadows  lay 
now  on  the  lawn  ;  and  from  where  she  sat  Ellen 
could  see  the  great  hemlock  all  silvered  with  the 
moonlight  which  began  to  steal  in  at  the  window. 
It  wa6  very,  very  beautiful ; — yet  she  could  think 
now  without  sorrow  that  all  this  should  come  to  an 
«nd ;  because  of  that  new  heaven  and  new  earth 
wherein  righteousness  should  dwell. 

"  We  have  eaten  up  all  your  grapes,  Ellen, "  said 
Alice, — "  or  rather  /have,  for  John  didn't  help  me 
much.  I  think  I  never  tasted  so  sweet  grapes  in 
my  life ;  John  said  the  reason  was  because  every 
one  tasted  of  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad,''  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  There  is  no  evil  without  some  good,"  Alice 
went  on  : — "  except  for  my  headache  John  would 
not  have  held  my  head  by  the  hour  as  he  did  ;  and 
you  couldn't  have  given  me  the  pleasure  you    did, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  59, 

Ellie.  Oh,  Jack ! — there  has  been  many  a  day* 
lately  when  I  would  gladly  have  had  a  headache 
for  the  power  of  laying  my  head  on  your  shoulder  !  " 

"  And  if  mamma  had  not  gone  away  I  should 
never  have  known  you,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  wish  she 
never  had  gone,  but  I  am  very,  very  glad  for 
this!" 

She  had  kneeled  upon  the  window-seat  and 
clasped  Alice  round  the  neck,  just  as  they  were 
called  to  tea.  The  conversation  had  banished 
every  disagreeable  feeling  from  Ellen's  mind.  She 
met  her  companions  in  the  drawing-room,  almost 
forgetting  that  she  had  any  cause  of  complaint 
against  them.  And  this  appeared  when  in  the  course 
of  the  evening  it  came  in  her  way  to  perform  some 
little  office  of  politeness  for  Marianne.  It  was 
done  with  the  gracefulness  that  could  only  come 
from  a  spirit  entirely  free  from  ungraceful  feelings. 
The  children  felt  it,  and  for  the  time  were  shamed 
into  better  behavior.  The  evening  passed  pleas- 
antly, and  Ellen  went  to  bed  very  happy. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

The  ancient  heroes  were  illustrious, 
For  being  benign,  and  not  blusterous. 

HUDIBRAS. 

The  next  day  it  happened  that  the  young  people 
were  amusing  themselves  with  talking  in  a  room 
where  John  Humphreys,  walking  up  and  down,  was 
amusing  himself  with  thinking.  In  the  course  of  his 
walk  he  began  to  find  their  amusement  rather  dis- 
turbing to  his.  The  children  were  all  grouped 
closely  round  Margaret  Dunscombe,  who  was 
entertaining  them  with  a  long  and  very  detailed 
2 


J6o  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

account  of  a  wedding  and  great  party  at  Randolph 
which  she  had  had  the  happiness  of  attending. 
Eagerly  fighting  her  battles  over  again,  and  pleased 
with  the  rapt  attention  of  her  hearers,  the  speaker 
forgot  herself  and  raised  her  voice  much  more  than 
she  meant  to  do.  As  every  turn  of  his  Walk 
brought  John  near,  there  came  to  his  ears  sufficient 
bits  and  scraps  of  Margaret's  story  to  give  him  a 
very  fair  sample  of  the  whole  ;  and  he  was  sorry  to 
see  Ellen  among  the  rest,  and  as  the  rest,  hanging 
upon  her  lips  and  drinking  in  what  seemed  to  him 
to  be  very  poor  nonsense.  "  Her  gown  was  all  blue 
satin,  trimmed  here, — and  so, — you  know,  with  the 
most  exquisite  lace,  as  deep  as  that, — and  on  the 
shoulders  and  here — you  know,  it  was  looped  up 
with  the  most  lovely  bunches  of  " — here  John  lost 
the  sense.  When  he  came  near  again  she  had  got 
upon  a  different  topic — "  Miss  Simmons,"  says  I, 
!"  what  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  "  Why,"  says  she, 
"  how  could   I  help  it  ?     I   saw  Mr.    Pyne   coming, 

and   I   thought  I'd  get  behind  you,   and  so " 

The  next  time  the  speaker  was  saying  with  great 
animation,  "  And  lo,  and  behold,  when  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  all  my  pleasure,  up  comes  a  little  gentle- 
man of    about  his   dimensions "     He  had  not 

taken  many  turns  when  he  saw  that  Margaret's 
nonsense  was  branching  out  right  and  left  into 
worse  than  nonsense. 

"  Ellen  I  "  said  he,  suddenly, — "  I  want  you  in  the 
library." 

"  My  conscience  !  "  said  Margaret,  as  he  left  the 
room, — "  King  John  the  second,  and  no  less." 

"  Don't  go  on  till  I  come  back,"  said  Ellen ;  "  I 
•Won't  be  three  minutes  ;  just  wait  for  me." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  6l 

She  found  John  seated  at  one  of  the  tables  in  the 
library,  sharpening  a  pencil. 

"  Ellen,"  said  he,  in  his  usual  manner, — "  I  want 
you  to  do  something  for  me." 

She  waited  eagerly  to  hear  what,  but  instead  of 
telling  her  he  took  a  piece  of  drawing  paper  and 
began  to  sketch  something.  Ellen  stood  by,  wonder- 
ing and  impatient  to  the  last  degree  ;  not  caring, 
however,  to  show  her  impatience,  though  her  very 
feet  were  twitching  to  run  back  to  her  companions. 

"  Ellen,"  said  John,  as  he  finished  the  old  stump 
of  a  tree  with  one  branch  left  on  it,  and  a  little  bit 
of  ground  at  the  bottom,  "  did  you  ever  try  your 
hand  at  drawing  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Then  sit  down  here,"  said  he,  rising  from  his 
chair,  "  and  let  me  see  what  you  can  make  of 
that." 

"  But  I  don't  know  how,"  said  Ellen. 

"  I  will  teach  you.  There  is  a  piece  of  paper, 
and  this  pencil  is  sharp  enough.  Is  that  chair  too 
low  for  you  ?  " 

He  placed  another,  and  with  extreme  unwilling- 
ness and  some  displeasure  Ellen  sat  down.  It  was 
on  her  tongue  to  ask  if  another  time  would  not  do, 
but  somehow  she  could  not  get  the  words  out. 
John  showed  her  how  to  hold  her  pencil,  how  to 
place  her  paper,  where  to  begin,  and  how  to  go  on ; 
and  then  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  and 
took  up  his  walk  again.  Ellen  at  first  felt  more 
inclined  to  drive  her  pencil  through  the  paper  than 
to  make  quiet  marks  upon  it.  However,  necessity 
was  upon  her.  She  began  her  work ;  and  once 
fairly  begun  it  grew  delightfully  interesting.     Her 


li  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

vexation  went  off  entirely  ;  she  forgot  Margaret  and 
her  story ;  the  wrinkles  on  the  old  trunk  smoothed 
those  on  her  brow,  and  those  troublesome  leaves  at 
the  branch  end  brushed  away  all  thoughts  of  every- 
thing else.  Her  cheeks  were  burning  with  intense 
interest,  when  the  library  door  burst  open  and  the 
whole  troop  of  children  rushed  in ;  they  wanted 
Ellen  for  a  round  game  in  which  all  their  number 
were  needed  ;  she  must  come  directly. 

"  I  can't  come  just  yet,"  said  she ;  "  I  must  finish 
this  first." 

"  Afterwards  will  just  do  as  well,"  said  George  ; 
— "  come,  Ellen,  do  ! — you  can  finish  it  after- 
wards." 

"  No,  I  can't,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  can't  leave  it  till 
it's  done.  Why,  I  thought  Mr.  John  was  here !  I 
didn't  see  him  go  out.     I'll  come  in  a  little  while." 

"  Did  he  set  you  about  that  precious  piece  of 
business  ?  "  said  William. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  declare,"  said  Margaret, — "  he's  fitter  to  be 
the  Grand  Turk  than  any  one  else  I  know  of." 

"  I  don't  know  who  the  Grand  Turk  is,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Til  tell  you,"  said  William,  putting  his  mouth 
close  to  her  ear,  and  speaking  in  a  disagreeable  loud 
whisper, — "  it's  the  biggest  gobbler  in  the  yard." 

"  Ain't  you  ashamed,  William  ? "  cried  little  Ellen 
Chauncey. 

"That's  it  exactly,"  said  Margaret — "  always 
strutting  about." 

"  He  isn't  a  bit,"  said  Ellen,  every  angry  ;  "  I've 
seen  people  a  great  deal  more  like  gobblers  than 
he  is." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  63 

"  Well,"  said  Willian,  reddening  in  his  turn,  "  I 
had  rather  at  any  rate  be  a  good  turkey  gobbler 
than  one  of  those  outlandish  birds  that  have  an 
appetite  for  stones  and  glass  and  bits  of  morocco, 
and  such  things.  Come,  let's  us  leave  her  to  do 
the  Grand  Turk's  bidding.  Come,  Ellen  Chauncey 
— you  mustn't  stay  to  interrupt  her — we  want  you  !  " 

They  left  her  alone.  Ellen  had  colored,  but 
William's  words  did  not  hit  very  sore  ;  since  John's 
talk  with  her  about  the  matter  referred  to  she  had 
thought  of  it  humbly  and  wisely  ;  it  is  only  pride 
that  makes  such  fault-finding  very  hard  to  bear. 
She  was  very  sorry,  however,  that  they  had  fallen 
out  again,  and  that  her  own  passion,  as  she  feared, 
had  been  the  cause.  A  few  tears  had  to  be  wiped 
away  before  she  could  see  exactly  how  the  old  tree 
stood, — then  taking  up  her  pencil  she  soon  forgot 
everything  in  her  work.  It  was  finished,  and  with 
head  now  on  one  side  now  on  the  other,  she  was  look- 
ing at  her  picture  with  very  great  satisfaction,  when 
her  eye  caught  the  figure  of  John  standing  before  her. 

"  Is  it  done  ?  "  said  he. 

"  It  is  done,"  said  Ellen,  smiling,  as  she  rose  up 
to  let  him  come.     He  sat  down  to  look  at  it. 

"  It  is  very  well, "  he  said, — "  better  than  I  ex- 
pected,— it  is  very  well,  indeed.  Is  this  your  ft?st 
trial,  Ellen  ? " 

"  Yes— the  first." 

"You  found  it  pleasant  work?  " 

"  Oh,  very  ! — very  pleasant.     I  like  it  dearly." 

*'  Then  I  will  teach  you.  This  shows  you  have 
a  taste  for  it,  and  that  is  precisely  what  I  wanted 
to  find  out.  I  will  give  you  an  easier  copy  next 
time.     I  rather  expected  when  you  sat  down,"  said 


64  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

he,  smiling  a  little,  "  that  the  old  tree  would  gro* 
a  good  deal  more  crooked  under  your  hands  than 
I  meant  it  to  be." 

Ellen  blushed  exceedingly.  "  I  do  believe,  Mr. 
John,"  said  she,  stammering,  "  that  you  know  every- 
thing I  am  thinking  about." 

"  I  might  do  that,  Ellen,  without  being  as  wise 
as  an  oracle.  But  I  do  not  expect  to  make  any 
very  painful  discoveries  in  that  line." 

Ellen  thought,  if  he  did  not,  it  would  not  be  her 
fault.  She  truly  repented  her  momentary  anger 
and  hasty  speech  to  William.  Not  that  he  did 
not  deserve  it,  or  that  it  was  not  true  ;  but  it  was 
unwise,  and  had  done  mischief,  and  "  it  was  not  a 
bit  like  peacemaking,  nor  meek  at  all,"  Ellen  said 
to  herself.  She  had  been  reading  that  morning 
the  fifth  chapter  of  Matthew,  and  it  ran  in  her  head, 
"  Blessed  are  the  meek," — "  Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers :  for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of 
God."  She  strove  to  get  back  a  pleasant  feeling 
toward  her  young  companions,  and  prayed  that 
she  might  not  be  angry  at  anything  they  should 
say.     She  was  tried  again  at  tea-time. 

Miss  Sophia  had  quitted  the  table,  bidding  Wil- 
liam hand  the  doughnuts  to  those  who  could  not 
reach  them.  Marianne  took  a  great  while  to  make 
her  choice.     Her  brother  grew  impatient. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  have  suited  yourself,"  said 
he.  "  Come,  Miss  Montgomery,  don't  you  be  as 
long;  my  arm  is  tired.  Shut  your  eyes,  arid  then 
you'll  be  sure  to  get  the  biggest  one  in  the  bas- 
ket." 

"  No,  Ellen,"  said  John,  who  none  of  the  children 
thought  was  near, — "  it  would   be  ungenerous — I 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  6$ 

wouldn't  deprive  Master  William  of  his  best  argu- 
ments." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  my  arguments  ? "  said 
William,  sharply. 

"  Generally,  those  which  are  the  most  difficult  to 
take  in,"  answered  his  tormentor  with  perfect 
gravity. 

Ellen  tried  to  keep  from  smiling,  but  could  not; 
and  others  of  the  party  did  not  try.  William  and 
his  sister  were  enraged,  the  more  because  John  had 
said  nothing  they  could  take  hold  of,  or  even  re* 
peat.     Gilbert  made  common  cause  with  them. 

"  I  wish  I  was  grown  up  for  once,"  said  William. 

"  Will  you  fight  me,  sir  ?  "  asked  Gilbert,  who  was 
a  matter  of  three  years  older,  and  well  grown 
enough. 

His  question  received  no  answer,  and  was  re-» 
peated. 

"No,  sir." 

11  Why  not,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  you'd  lay  me  up  with  a  sprained 
ankle,"  said  John,  "  and  I  should  not  get  back  ta 
Doncaster  as  quickly  as  I  must." 

"  It  is  very  mean  of  him,"  said  Gilbert,  as  John 
walked  away, — "  I  could  whip  him,  I  know." 

"  Who's  that  ? "  said  Mr.  Howard  Marshman, 

"John  Humphreys." 

"John  Humphreys  !  You  had  better  not  meddle 
with  him,  my  dear  fellow.  It  would  be  no  par- 
ticular proof  of  wisdom." 

"  Why,  he  is  no  such  great  affair,"  said  Gilbert ; 
"  he's  tall  enough  to  be  sure,  but  I  don't  believe 
he  is  heavier  than  I  am." 

"  You    don't  know,  in  the  first  placex   how  to 


66  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

judge  of  the  size  of  a  perfectly  well-made  man ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  /was  not  a  match  for  him 
a  year  ago  •  so  you  may  judge — I  do  not  know 
precisely,"  he  went  on  to  the  lady  he  was  walking 
with,  "  what  it  takes  to  rouse  John  Humphreys, 
but  when  he  is  roused  he  seems  to  me  to  have 
strength  enough  for  twice  his  bone  and  muscle.  I 
have  seen  him  do  curious  things  once  or  twice  !  " 

"  That  quiet  Mr.  Humphreys  ?  " 

"  Humph  1  "  said  Mr.  Howard, — "  gunpowder  is 
pretty  quiet  stuff  so  long  as  it  keeps  cool." 

The  next  day  another  matter  happened  to  dis- 
turb Ellen.  Margaret  had  received  an  elegant  pair 
of  ear-rings  as  a  Christmas  present,  and  was  show- 
ing them  for  the  admiration  of  her  young  friends. 
Ellen's  di'd  not  satisfy  her. 

"  Ain't  they  splendid  ?  "  said  she.  "  Tell  the 
truth  now,  Ellen  Montgomery,  wouldn't  you  give  a 
great  deal  if  somebody  would  send  you  such  a 
pair  ?  " 

"  They  are  very  pretty,"  said  Ellen,  "but  I  don't 
think  I  care  much  for  such  things, — I  would  rather 
have  the  money." 

"  Oh,  you  avaricious  ! — Mr.  Marshman  !  "  cried 
Margaret,  as  the  old  gentleman  was  just  then  pass- 
ing through  the  room, — "  here's  Ellen  Montgomery 
says  she'd  rather  have  money  than  anything  else 
for  her  present." 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  and  went  but  with- 
out making  any  reply. 

"  Oh,  Margaret !  "  said  Ellen,  shocked  and  dis- 
tressed,— "  how  could  you  !  how  could  you  !  What 
Will  Mr.  Marshman  think  ? " 

Margaret   answered    she    didn't   care   what   he 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  67 

thought.     Ellen  could  only  hope  he  had  not  heard. 

But  a  day  or  two  after,  when  neither  Ellen  nor 
her  friends  were  present,  Mr.  Marshman  asked  who 
it  was  that  had  told  him  Ellen  Montgomery  would 
like  money  better  than  anything  else  for  her  New 
Year's  present." 

"  It   was  I,  sir,"  said  Margaret. 

"  It  sounds  very  unlike  her  to  say  so,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  Did  she  say  so  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Marshman. 

"  I  understood  her  so,"  said  Margaret, — "  I  un- 
derstood her  to  say  she  wouldn't  care  for  anything 
else." 

"  I  am  disappointed  in  her,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man ;  "  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey, 
quietly ;  "  there  has  been  some  mistake." 

It  was  hard  for  Ellen  now  to  keep  to  what  she 
thought  right.  Disagreeable  feelings  would  rise 
when  she  remembered  the  impoliteness,  the  half 
sneer,  the  whole  taunt,  and  the  real  unkindness  of 
several  of  the  young  party.  She  found  herself 
ready  to  be  irritated,  inclined  to  dislike  the  sight 
of  those,  even  wishing  to  visit  some  sort  of  punish- 
ment upon  them.  But  Christian  principle  had 
taken  strong  hold  in  little  Ellen's  heart ;  she  fought 
her  evil  tempers  manfully.  It  was  not  an  easy 
battle  to  gain.  Ellen  found  that  resentment  and 
pride  had  roots  deep  enough  to  keep  her  pulling 
up  the  shoots  for  a  good  while.  She  used  to  get 
alone  when  she  could,  to  read  a  verse,  if  no  more* 
of  her  Bible,  and  pray  ;  she  could  forgive  William 
and  Margaret  more  easily  then.  Solitude  and  dark' 
ness.  saw  many  a  prayer  and  tear  of  hers  that  week. 


<58  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

As  she  struggled  thus  to  get  rid  of  sin  and  to  be 
tnore  like  what  would  please  God,  she  grew  humble 
and  happy.  Never  was  such  a  struggle  carried  on 
by  faith  in  Him,  without  success.  And  after  a 
time,  though  a  twinge  of  the  old  feeling  might  come, 
it  was  very  slight ;  she  would  bid  William  and 
Margaret  good-morning,  and  join  them  in  any  en- 
terprise of  pleasure  or  business,  with  a  brow  as  un- 
clouded as  the  sun.  They,  however,  were  too  con- 
scious of  having  behaved  unbecomingly  towards 
their  little  stranger  guest  to  be  over  fond  of  her 
company.  For  the  most  part  she  and  Ellen 
Chauncey  were  left  to  each  other. 

Meanwhile  the  famous  needle-book  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  be  finished.  Great  dismay  had  at  first  been 
excited  in  the  breast  of  the  intended  giver,  by  the 
discovery  that  Gilbert  had  consulted  what  seemed 
to  be  a  very  extraordinary  fancy,  in  making  the 
rose  a  yellow  one.  Ellen  did  her  best  to  comfort 
her.  She  asked  Alice,  and  found  there  were  such 
things  as  yellow  roses,  and  they  were  very  beautiful 
too  ;  and  besides,  it  would  match  so  nicely  the 
yellow  butterfly  on  the  other  leaf. 

"  I  had  rather  it  wouldn't  match  !  "  said  Ellen 
Chauncey  ; — "and  it  don't  match  the  rose-colored 
silk  besides.     Are  the  yellow  roses  sweet  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ellen, — "but  this  couldn't  have  been 
a  sweet  rose  at  any  rate  you  know." 

"Oh,  but,"  said  the  other,  bursting  out  into  a 
fresh  passion  of  inconsolable  tears, — "  I  wanted  it 
should  be  the  picture  of  a  sweet  rose  ! — And  I  think 
he  might  have  put  a  purple  butterfly — yellow  butter- 
flies are  so  common  ?  I  had  a  great  deal  rather 
have  had  a  purple  butterfly  and  a  red  rose  ! " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  b^ 

What  cannot  be  cured,  however,  must  be  endured. 
The  tears  were  dried,  in  course  of  time,  and  the 
needle-book  with  its  yellow  pictures  and  pink  edges 
was  very  neatly  finished.  Ellen  had  been  busy  too 
on  her  own  account.  Alice  had  got  a  piece  of  fine 
linen  for  her  from  Miss  Sophia ;  the  collar  for  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  had  been  cut  out,  and  EllCn  with  great 
pleasure  had  made  it.  The  stitching,  the  strings, 
and  the  very  button-hole,  after  infinite  pains  were 
all  finished  by  Thursday  night.  She  had  also 
made  a  needle-case  for  Alice,  not  of  so  much  pre- 
tension as  the  other  one  ;  this  was  green  morocco 
lined  with  crimson  satin  ;  no  leaves,  but  ribbon 
stitched  in  to  hold  papers  of  needles,  and  a  place 
for  a  bodkin.  Ellen  worked  very  hard  at  this ;  it 
was  made  with  the  extremest  care,  and  made  beau- 
tifully. Ellen  Chauncey  admired  it  very  much,  and 
anew  lamented  the  uncouth  variety  of  colors  in  her 
own.  It  was  a  grave  question  whether  pink  or  yel- 
low ribbons  should  be  used  for  the  latter ;  Ellen 
Montgomery  recommended  pink,  she  herself  in- 
clined to  yellow  ;  and  tired  of  doubting,  at  last  re- 
solved to  split  the  difference  and  put  one  string  of 
each  color.  Ellen  thought  that  did  not  mend  mat- 
ters, but  wisely  kept  her  thoughts  to  herself.  Be- 
sides the  needle-case  for  Alice  she  had  snatched 
the  time  whenever  she  could  get  away  from  Ellen 
Chauncey  to  work  at  something  for  her.  She  had 
begged  Alice's  advice  and  help  ;  and  between  them, 
out  of  Ellen's  scraps  of  morocco  and  silk,  they  had 
manufactured  a  little  bag  of  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow,  and  very  pretty  and  tasteful  withal.  Ellen 
thought  it  a  chef  d'oenvre,  and  was  unbounded  in 
her  admiration.     It  lay  folded  up  in  white  paper  in 


70  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

a  locked  drawer  ready  for  New  Year's  day.  In 
addition  to  all  these  pieces  of  business,  John  had 
begun  to  give  her  drawing-lessons,  according  to  his 
promise.  These  became  Ellen's  delight.  She 
would  willingly  have  spent  much  more  time  upon 
them  than  he  would  allow  her.  It  was  the  most  loved 
employment  of  the  day.  Her  teacher's  skill  was 
not  greater  then  the  perfect  gentleness  and  kind- 
ness with  which  he  taught.  Ellen  thought  of  Mr. 
Howard's  speech  about  gunpowder, — she  could  not 
understand  it. 

"  What  is  your  conclusion  on  the  whole  ?  "  asked 
John,  one  day,  as  he  stood  beside  her,  mending  a 
pencil. 

"Why,"  said  Ellen,  laughing  and  blushing, — 
"  how  could  you  guess  what  I  was  thinking  about, 
Mr.  John  ?  " 

"  Not  very  difficult,  when  you  are  eyeing  me  so 
hard." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  right  in  me  to  tell  it — because  some- 
body said  you " 

"Well?" 

"Were  like  gunpowder." 

"  Very  kind  of  somebody !  And  so  you  have 
been  in  doubt  of  an  explosion  ? " 

"  No — I  don't  know — I  wondered  what  he  meant." 

"  Never  believe  what  you  hear  said  of  people, 
Ellen  ;  judge  for  yourself.  Look  here — that  house 
has  suffered  from  a  severe  gale  of  wind,  I  should 
think — all  the  uprights  are  slanting  off  to  the  right 
— can't  you  set  it  up  straight  ?  " 

Ellen  laughed  at  the  tumble-down  condition  of 
her  house  as  thus  pointed  out  to  her,  and  set  about 
reforming  it. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


71 


It  was  Thursday  afternoon  that  Alice  and  Ellen 
were  left  alone  in  the  library,  several  of  the  family 
having  been  called  out  to  receive  some  visitors ; 
Alice  had  excused  herself,  and  Ellen  as  soon  as 
they  were  gone  nestled  up  to  her  side. 

"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  alone  together,  dear 
Alice  ! — I  don't  have  you  even  at  night  now." 

"  It  is  very  pleasant,  dear  Ellie  !  Home  will  not 
look  disagreeable  again,  will  it  ?  even  after  all  our 
gayety  here." 

"  No  indeed  ! — at  least  your  home  won't — I  don't 
know  what  mine  will.  Oh  me !  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten Aunt  Fortune  !  " 

"  Never  mind,  dear  Ellie  !  You  and  I  have  each 
something  to  bear — we  must  be  brave  and  bear  it 
manfully.  There  is  a  Friend  that  sticketh  closer 
than  a  brother,  you  know.  We  sha'n't  be  unhappy 
if  we  do  our  duty  and  love  Him." 

"  How  soon  is  Mr.  John  going  away  ? " 

"  Not  for  all  next  week.  And  so  long  as  he 
stays,  I  do  not  mean  that  you  shall  leave  me." 

Ellen  cried  for  joy. 

"  I  can  manage  it  with  Miss  Fortune,  I  know," 
said  Alice.  "  These  fine  drawing-lessons  must  not  be 
interrupted.  John  is  very  much  pleased  with  your 
performances." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  said  Ellen,  delighted ; — "  I  have  taken 
all  the  pains  I  could." 

"  That  is  the  sure  way  to  success,  Ellie.  But, 
Ellie,  I  want  to  ask  you  about  something.  What 
was  that  you  said  to  Margaret  Dunscombe  about 
wanting  money  for  a  New  Year's  present  ?  " 

"  You  know  it,  then  !  "  cried  Ellen,  starting  up. 
"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !     I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about 


7  j  THE    WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

it,  so  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  and  I  thought  \ 
oughtn't  to.  What  shall  I  do  about  it,  dear  Alice? 
How  did  you  know  ?  George  said  you  were  not 
there." 

"  Mrs.  Chauncey  told  me  ;  she  thought  there 
had  been  some  mistake,  or  something  wrong  ; — how 
was  it,  Ellen  ?  " 

"Why,"  said  Ellen,  "she  was  showing  us  her 
ear-rings,  and  asking  us  what  we  thought  of  them, 
and  she  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  have  such 
a  pair  ;  and  I  thought  I  would  a  great  deal  rather 
have  the  money  they  cost,  to  buy  other  things  with, 
you  know,  that  I  would  like  better  •  and  I  said  so  ; 
and  just  then  Mr.  Marshman  came  in,  and  she 
called  out  to  him,  loud,  that  I  wanted  money  for  a 
present,  or  would  like  it  better  than  anything  else, 
or  something  like  that.  Oh,  Alice,  how  I  felt !  I 
was  frightened  ; — but  then  I  hoped  Mr.  Marshman 
did  not  hear  her,  for  he  did  not  say  anything ;  but 
the  next  day  George  told  me  all  about  what  she 
had  been  saying  in  there,  and  oh  !  it  made  me  so 
unhappy  !  "  said  poor  Ellen,  looking  very  dismal. 
"  What  will  Mr.  Marshman  think  of  me  ?  he  will 
think  I  expected  a  present,  and  I  never  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing !  it  makes  me  ashamed  to  speak  of  it 
even  ;  and  I  can't  bear  he  should  think  so — I  can't 
bear  it !     What  shall  I  do,  dear  Alice  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  can  do,  dear  Ellie,  but 
be  patient.  Mr.  Marshman  will  not  think  anything 
very  hard  of  you,  I  dare  say." 

"  But  I  think  he  does  already  ;  he  hasn)jj»  kissed 
me  since  that  as  he  did  before  ;  I  know  he  does, 
and  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  How  could  Margaret 
say  that !  oh,  how  could  she  !  it  was  very  unkind 


& 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  73 

— What  can  I  do  ?  "  said  Ellen  again,  after  a  pause, 
and  wiping  away  a  few  tears.  "  Couldn't  Mrs. 
Chauncey  tell  Mr.  Marshman  not  to  give  me  any- 
thing, for  that  I  never  expected  it,  and  would  a 
sreat  deal  rather  not  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  Ellie,  I  do  not  think  that  would  be 
exactly  the  best  or  most  dignified  way." 

"  What  then,  dear  Alice  ?  I'll  do  just  as  you 
say." 

"  I  would  just  remain  quiet." 

"  But  Ellen  says  the  things  are  all  put  on  the 
plates  in  the  morning  ;  and  if  there  should  be  money 
on  mine — I  don't  know  what  I  should  do,  I  should 
feel  so  badly.  I  couldn't  keep  it,  Alice  ! — I 
couldn't !  " 

"  Very  well — you  need  not — but  remain  quiet  in 
the  mean  while  ;  and  if  it  should  be  so,  then  say 
what  you  please,  only  take  care  that  you  say  it  in 
a  right  spirit  and  in  a  right  manner.  Nobody  can 
hurt  you  much,  my  child,  while  you  keep  the  even 
path  of  duty;  poor  Margaret  is  her  own  worst 
enemy." 

"  Then  if  there  should  be  money  in  the  morning, 
I  may  tell  Mr.  Marshman  the  truth  about  it  ? " 

"  Certainly  —  only  do  not  be  in  haste  ;  speak 
gently." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  everybody  would  be  kind  and  pleas- 
ant always  !  "  said  poor  Ellen,  but  half  comforted. 

"  What  a  sigh  was  there  !  "  said  John,  coming 
in.     u  What   is  the   matter  with  my  little  sister  ?  " 

"Some  of  the  minor  trials  of  life,  John,"  said 
Alice,  with  a  smile. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  something  you  can't  help,"  said  Ellen. 


74  'fHE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"And  something  I  mustn't  know.  Well,  to 
change  the  scene, — suppose  you  go  with  me  to 
visit  the  greenhouse  and  hothouses.  Have  you 
seen  them  yet  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  eagerly  sprang  forward 
to  take  his  hand  ; — "  Ellen  promised  to  go  with 
me,  but  we  have  been  so  busy." 

"  Will  you  come,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Alice, — "  I  wish  I  could,  but  I 
shall  be  wanted  elsewhere." 

"  By  whom,  I  wonder,  so  much  as  by  me  ? " 
said  her  brother.  "  However,  after  to-morrow  I 
will  have  you  all  to  myself." 

As  he  and  Ellen  were  crossing  the  hall  they  met 
Mrs.  Marshman. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  John  ? "  said  she. 

"  Where  I  ought  to  have  been  before,  ma'am, — 
to  pay  my  respects  to  Mr.  Hutchinson." 

"  You've  not  seen  him  yet !  that  is  very  ungrate- 
ful of  you.  Hutchinson  is  one  of  your  warmest 
friends  and  admirers.  There  are  few  people  he 
mentions  with  so  much  respect,  or  that  he  is  so 
glad  to  see,  as  Mr.  John  Humphreys." 

"  A  distinction  I  owe,  I  fear,  principally  to  my 
English  blood,"  said  John,  shaking  his  head. 

"It  is  not  altogether  that,"  said  Mrs.  Marsh- 
man,  laughing ;  "  though  I  do  believe  I  am  the  only 
Yankee  good  Hutchinson  has  ever  made  up  his 
mind  entirely  to  like.  But  go  and  see  him,  do,  he 
will  be  very  much  pleased." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Hutchinson  ? "  said  Ellen,  as  they 
went  on. 

"  He  is  the  gardener,  or  rather  the  head  gardener. 
He  came  out  with  his  master  some  thirty  or  forty 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  75 

years  ago,  but  his  old  English  prejudice  will  go  to 
the  grave  with  him,  I  believe." 

"  But  why  don't  he  like  the  Americans  ? " 

John  laughed.  "  It  would  never  do  for  me  to 
attempt  to  answer  that  question,  Ellen  ;  fond  of 
going  to  the  bottom  of  things  as  you  are.  We 
should  just  get  to  hard  fighting  about  tea-time,  and 
should  barely  make  peace  by  midday  to-morrow  at 
the  most  moderate  calculation.  You  shall  have  an 
answer  to  your  question,  however." 

Ellen  could  not  conceive  what  he  meant,  but  re- 
solved to  wait  for  his  promised  answer. 

As  they  entered  the  large  and  beautifully  kept 
greenhouse,  Hutchinson  came  from  the  further  end 
of  it  to  meet  them  ;  an  old  man,  of  most  respectable 
appearance.  He  bowed  very  civilly,  and  then 
slipped  his  pruning  knife  into  his  left  hand  to  leave 
the  right  at  liberty  for  John,  who  shook  it  cordially. 

"And  why  'aven't  you  been  to  see  me  before, 
Mr.  John  ?  I  have  thought  it  rather  'ard  of  you. 
Miss  h'Alice  has  come  several  times." 

"  The  ladies  have  more  leisure,  Mr.  Hutchinson. 
You  look  flourishing  here." 

"  Why,  yes,  sir, — pretty  middling,  within  doors  ; 
but  I  don't  like  the  climate,  Mr.  John,  I  don't  like 
the  climate,  sir.  There's  no  country  like  h'Eng- 
land,  I  believe,  for  my  business.  'Ere's  a  fine  rose, 
sir, — if  you'll  step  a  bit  this  way — quite  a  new  kind 
— I  got  it  over  last  h'autumn — the  Palmerston  it  is. 
Those   are  fine  buds,  sir." 

The  old  man  was  evidently  much  pleased  to  see 
his  visitor,  and  presently  plunged  him  deep  into 
English  politics,  for  which  he  seemed  to  have  lost 
no  interest  by  forty  years'  life  in  America.     As  Ellen 


76  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

could  not  understand  what  they  were  talking  about, 
she  quitted  John's  side  and  went  wandering  about 
by  herself.  From  the  moment  the  sweet  aromatic 
smell  of  the  plants  had  greeted  her  she  had  been 
in  a  high  state  of  delight ;  and  now,  lost  to  all  the 
world  beside,  from  the  mystery  of  one  beautiful 
and  strange  green  thing  to  another,  she  went  won- 
dering and  admiring,  and  now  and  then  timidly  ad- 
vancing her  nose  to  see  if  something  glorious  was 
something  sweet  too.  She  could  hardly  leave  a 
superb  cactus,  in  the  petals  of  which  there  was  such 
a  singular  blending  of  scarlet  and  crimson  as  almost 
to  dazzle  her  sight ;  and  if  the  pleasure  of  smell 
could  intoxicate  she  would  have  reeled  away  from  a 
luxuriant  daphne  odorata  in  full  flower,  over  which 
she  feasted  for  a  long  time.  The  variety  of  green 
leaves  alone  was  a  marvel  to  her ;  some  rough  and 
brown-streaked,  some  shining  as  if  they  were  var- 
nished, others  of  hair-like  delicacy  of  structure, — 
all  lovely.  At  last  she  stood  still  with  admiration 
and  almost  held  her  breath  before  a  white  cam- 
ellia. 

"What  does  that  flower  make  you  think  of, 
Ellen  ?  "  said  John,  coming  up  ;  his  friend  the  gar- 
dener had  left  him  to  seek  a  newspaper  in  which  he 
wished  to  show  him  a  paragraph. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,. — "  I  couldn't  think 
of  anything  but  itself." 

"  It  reminds  me  of  what  I  ought  to  be — and  of 
what  I  shall  be  if  I  ever  see  heaven ; — it  seems  to 
me  the  emblem  of  a  sinless  pure  spirit,- — looking 
up  in  fearless  spotlessness.  Do  you  remember 
what  was  said  to  the  old  Church  of  Sardis, — '  Thou 
hast  a  few  names  that  have  not  defiled  their  gar 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  77 

ments  2  and  they  shall  walk  with  me  in  white  for 
they  are  worthy." 

The  tears  rushed  to  Ellen's  eyes,  she  felt  she  was 
so  very  unlike  this  ;  but  Mr.  Hutchinson  coming 
back  prevented  anything  more  from  being  said. 
She  looked  at  the  white  camellia ;  it  seemed  to 
speak  to  her. 

"  That's  the  paragraph,  sir,"  said  the  old  gar- 
dener, giving  the  paper  to  John.  "  'Ere's  a  little  lady 
that  is  fond  of  flowers,  if  I  don't  make  a  mistake  5 
this  is  somebody  I've  not  seen  before.  Is  this 
the  little  lady  little  Miss  h'Ellen  was  telling  me 
about  ? " 

"  I  presume  so,"  said  John  ; — "  she  is  Miss  Ellen 
Montgomery,  a  sister  of  mine,  Mr.  Hutchinson, 
and  Mr.  Marshman's  guest." 

"  By  both  names  h'entitled  to  my  greatest  re* 
spect,"  said  the  old  man,  stepping  back  and  making 
a  very  low  bow  to  Ellen,  with  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  at  which  she  could  not  help  laughing.  "  I 
am  very  glad  to  see  Miss  h'Ellen  ;  what  can  I  do  to 
make  her  remember  old  'Utchinson  ?  Would  Miss 
h'Ellen  like  a  bouquet  ?  " 

Ellen  did  not  venture  to  say  yes,  but  her  blush 
and  sparkling  eyes  answered  him.  The  old  gar* 
dener  understood  her,  and  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
He  began  with  cutting  a  beautiful  sprig  of  a  large 
purple  geranium,  then  a  slip  of  lemon  myrtle. 
Ellen  watched  him  as  the  bunch  grew  in  his  hand, 
and  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes  as  one  beauty 
after  another  was  added  to  what  became  a  most 
elegant  bouquet.  And  most  sweet  too  ;  to  her  joy 
the  delicious  daphne  and  fragrant  lemon  blossom 
went  to  make  part  of  it.     Her  thanks,  when  it  wag 


;  8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

given  her,  were  made  with  few  words,  but  with  all 
her  face ;  the  old  gardener  smiled,  and  was  quite 
satisfied  that  his  gift  was  not  thrown  away.  He 
afterwards  showed  them  his  hothouses,  where  Ellen 
was  astonished  and  very  much  interested  to  see 
ripe  oranges  and  lemons  in  abundance,  and  pines 
too,  such  as  she  had  been  eating  since  she  came 
to  Ventnor,  thinking  nothing  less  than  that  they 
grew  so  near  home.  The  grapes  had  all  been 
cut. 

There  was  to  be  quite  a  party  at  Ventnor  in  the 
evening  of  New  Year's  day.  Ellen  knew  this,  and 
destined  her  precious  flowers  for  Alice's  adorn- 
ment. How  to  keep  them  in  the  meanwhile  ?  She 
consulted  Mr.  John,  and  according  to  his  advice 
took  them  to  Mrs.  Bland,  the  housekeeper,  to  be 
put  in  water  and  kept  in  a  safe  place  for  her  till 
the  time.  She  knew  Mrs.  Bland,  for  Ellen  Chaun- 
cey  and  she  had  often  gone  to  her  room  to  work 
where  none  of  the  children  would  find  and  trouble 
them.  Mrs.  Bland  promised  to  take  famous  care 
of  the  flowers,  and  said  she  would  do  it  with  the 
greatest  pleasure.  Mr.  Marshman's  guests,  she 
added  smiling,  must  have  everything  they  wanted. 

"  What  does  that  mean,  Mrs.  Bland  ? "  said 
Ellen. 

"  Why  you  see,  Miss  Ellen,  there's  a  deal  of  com- 
pany always  coming,  and  some  is  Mrs.  Gillespie's 
friends,  and  some  Mr.  Howard's,  and  some  to  see 
Miss  Sophia  more  particularly,  and  some  belong  to 
Mrs.  Marshman,  or  the  whole  family,  may  be ;  but 
now  and  then  Mr.  Marshman  has  an  old  English 
friend  or  so,  that  he  sets  the  greatest  store  by  ;  and 
them  he  calls  his  guests  ;  and  the  best  in  the  house 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  79 

is  hardly  good  enough  for  them,  or  the  country 
either." 

"  And  so  I  am  one  of  Mr.  Marshman's  guests ! " 
said  Ellen.     "  I  didn't  know  what  it  meant." 

She  saved  out  one  little  piece  of  rose  geranium 
from  her  flowers,  for  the  gratification  of  her  own 
nose,  and  skipped  away  through  the  hall  to  rejoin 
her  companions,  very  light-hearted  indeed. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

This  life,  sae  far's  I  understand, 

Is  a'  enchanted  fairy-land, 

Where  pleasure  is  the  magic  wand, 

That,  wielded  right, 
Makes  hours  like  minutes  hand  in  hand, 

Dance  by  fu'  light. 

Burns. 

New  Year's  morning  dawned. 

"  How  I  wish  breakfast  was  over  !  "  thought 
Ellen,  as  she  was  dressing.  However,  there  is  no 
way  of  getting  over  this  life  but  by  going  through 
it ;  so  when  the  bell  rang  she  went  down  as  usual. 
Mr.  Marshman  had  decreed  that  he  would  not  have 
a  confusion  of  gifts  at  the  breakfast  table  ;  other 
people  might  make  presents  in  their  own  way  ;  they 
must  not  interfere  with  his.  Needle-cases,  bags,  and 
so  forth  must  therefore  wait  another  opportunity ; 
and  Ellen  Chauncey  decided  it  would  just  make  the 
pleasure  so  much  longer,  and  was  a  great  improve- 
ment on  the  old  plan.  "  Happy  New  Years  "  and 
pleasant  greetings  were  exchanged  as  the  party 
gathered  in  the  breakfast-room  ;  pleasure  sat  on  all 
faces,  except  Ellen's,  and  many  a  one  wore  a  broad 
smile  as  they  sat  down  to  table.  For  the  napkins 
were  in  singular  disarrangement  this  morning ; 
instead  of  being  neatly  folded  up  on  the  plates,  in 


So  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

their  usual  fashion,  they  were  in  all  sorts  of  dis 
order — sticking  up  in  curious  angles,  some  high, 
some  low,  some  half  folded,  some  quite  unfolded, 
according  to  the  size  and  shape  of  that  which  they 
covered.  It  was  worth  while  to  see  that  long  table- 
ful, and  the  faces  of  the  company,  before  yet  a  nap- 
kin was  touched.  An  anxious  glance  at  her  own 
showed  Ellen  that  it  lay  quite  flat ;  Alice's,  which 
was  next,  had  an  odd  little  rising  in  the  middle,  as 
if  there  were  a  small  dumpling  under  it.  Ellen  was 
in  an  agony  for  this  pause  to  come  to  an  end.  It 
was  broken  by  some  of  the  older  persons,  and  then 
in  a  trice  every  plate  was  uncovered.  And  then 
what  a  buzz  ! — pleasure  and  thanks  and  admiration, 
and  even  laughter.  Ellen  dreaded  at  first  to  look 
at  her  plate ;  she  bethought  her,  however,  that  if 
she  waited  long  she  would  have  to  do  it  with  all 
e3'es  upon  her  ;  she  lifted  the  napkin  slowly — yes 
- — just  as  she  feared — there  lay  a  clean  bank  note — 
of  what  value  she  could  not  see,  for  confusion 
covered  her  ;  the  blood  rushed  to  her  cheeks  and 
the  tears  to  her  eyes.  She  could  not  have  spoken, 
and  happily  it  was  no  time  then  •  everybody  else 
was  speaking;  she  could  not  have  been  heard. 
She  had  time  to  cool  and  recollect  herself  ;  but  she 
sat  with  her  eyes  cast  down,  fastened  upon  her  plate 
and  the  unfortunate  bank  bill,  which  she  detested 
with  all  her  heart.  She  did  not  know  what  Alice  had 
received ;  she  understood  nothing  that  was  going 
on,  till  Alice  touched  her  and  said  gently,  "  Mr. 
Marshman  is  speaking  to  you,  Ellen." 

"  Sir  !  "  said  Ellen,  starting. 

H  You  need  not  look  so  terrified,"  said  Mr.  Marsh- 
man,  smiling, — "  I  only  asked  you  if  your  bill  was 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  Si 

a  counterfeit — something  seems  to  be  wrong  about 
it." 

Ellen  looked  at  her  plate  and  hesitated.  Her 
lip  trembled. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  continued  the  old  gentleman.  "  Is 
anything  the  matter  ?  " 

Ellen  desperately  took  up  the  bill,  and  with  burn- 
ing cheeks  marched  to  his  end  of  the  table. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  but  I  had 
a  great  deal  rather  not ; — if  you  please — if  you 
please  to  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  give  it  back  to 
you — I  should  be  very  glad " 

"  Why,  hoity  toity  !  "  «ald  the  old  gentleman, — ■ 
"  what's  all  this  ?  what's  the  matter  ?  don't  you  like 
it  ?  I  thought  I  was  doing  the  very  thing  that 
would  please  you  best  of  all." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  should  think  so,  sir,"  said 
Ellen,  who  had  recovered  a  little  breath,  but  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  to  keep  back  her  tears  ; — "  I 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  your  giving  me 
anything,  sir,  till  somebody  spoke  of  it ;  and  I  had 
rather  never  have  anything  in  the  world  than  that 
you  should  think  what  you  thought  about  me." 

"  What  did  I  think  about  you  ?  " 

"  George  told  me  that  somebody  told  you,  sir,  I 
wanted  money  for  my  present." 

"  And  didn't  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  didn't,  sir  !  "  said  Ellen,  with  sudden 
fire.     "  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

"  What  did  you  say  then  ?  " 

"  Margaret  was  showing  us  her  ear-rings.,  and  she 

asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  have  some  like  them  ; 

and  I  couldn't  help  thinking  I   would  a  great  deal 

rather  have  the  money  they  would  cost  to  buy  some* 

6 


62  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

thing  for  Alice  ;  and  just  when  I  said  so  you  came  in 
sir,  and  she  said  what  she  did.  I  was  very  much 
ashamed.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  you,  sir,  at  all,  nor 
of  New  Year." 

"  Then  you  would  like  something  else  better  than 
money  ? " 

"  No,  sir,  nothing  at  all  if  you  please.  If  you'll 
only  be  so  good  as  not  to  give  me  this,  I  will  be 
very  much  obliged  to  you  indeed  ;  and  please  not  to 
think  I  could  be  so  shameful  as  you  thought  I  was." 

Ellen's  face  was  not  to  be  withstood.  The  old 
gentleman  took  the  bill  from  her  hand. 

■'-'  I  will  never  think  anything  of  you,"  said  he, 
"  but  what  is  the  very  tip-top  of  honorable  pro- 
priety. But  you  make  me  ashamed  now — what  am 
I  going  to  do  with  this  ?  Here  have  you  come  and 
made  me  a  present,  and  I  feel  very  awkward, 
indeed." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  do  with  it,  sir,"  said 
Ellen,  laughing,  though  in  imminent  danger  of  burst- 
ing into  tears ; — "  I  am  very  glad  it  is  out  of  my 
hands." 

"  But  you  needn't  think  I  am  going  to  let  you  off 
so,"  said  he ; — "  you  must  give  me  half  a  dozen 
kisses  at  least  to  prove  that  you  have  forgiven  me 
for  making  so  great  a  blunder." 

"  Half  a  dozen  is  too  many  at  once,"  said  Ellen, 
gayly  ; — "  three  now,  and  three  to-night." 

So  she  gave  the  old  gentleman  three  kisses,  but 
he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  gave  her  a  dozen  at 
least ;  after  which  he  found  out  that  the  waiter  was 
holding  a  cup  of  coffee  at  his  elbow,  and  Ellen  went 
back  to  her  place  with  a  very  good  appetite  for  hel 
breakfast. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  83 

After  breakfast  the  needle-cases  were  delivered. 
Both  gave  the  most  entire  satisfaction.  Mrs.  Chaun- 
cey  assured  her  daughter  that  she  would  quite  as 
lief  have  a  yellow  as  a  red  rose  on  the  cover,  and 
that  she  liked  the  inscription  extremely  ;  which  the 
little  girl  acknowledged  to  have  been  a  joint  device 
of  her  own  and  Ellen's.  Ellen's  bag  gave  great  de- 
light and  was  paraded  all  over  the  house. 

After  the  bustle  of  thanks  and  rejoicing  was  at 
last  over,  and  when  she  had  a  minute  to  herself, 
which  Ellen  Chauncey  did  not  give  her  for  a  good 
while,  Ellen  bethought  her  of  her  flowers, — a  sweet 
gift  still  to  be  made.  Why  not  make  it  now  ?  why 
should  not  Alice  have  the  pleasure  of  them  all  day  ? 
A  bright  thought !  Ellen  ran  forthwith  to  the  house- 
keeper's room,  and  after  a  long  admiring  look  at 
her  treasures,  carried  them  glass  and  all  to  the  li- 
brary, where  Alice  and  John  often  were  in  the  morn- 
ing alone.  Alice  thanked  her  in  the  way  she  liked 
best,  and  then  the  flowers  were  smelled  and  admired 
afresh. 

"  Nothing  could  have  been  pleasanter  to  me,  Ellie, 
except  Mr.  Marshman's  gift." 

"  And  what  was  that,  Alice  ?  I  haven't  seen  it 
yet." 

Alice  pulled  out  of  her  pocket  a  small  round 
morocco  case,  the  very  thing  that  Ellen  had  thought 
looked  like  a  dumpling  under  the  napkin,  and 
opened  it. 

"  It's  Mr.  John,"  exclaimed  Ellen.  "  Oh,  how 
beautiful  !  " 

Neither  of  her  hearers  could  help  laughing. 

"  It  is  very  fine,  Ellie,"  said  Alice;  "you  are 
quite    right.     Now  I  know  what  was  the    business 


84  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

that  took  John  to  Randolph  every  day,  and  kept 
him  there  so  long,  while  I  was  wondering  at  him 
unspeakably.     Kind,  kind  Mr.  Marshman." 

"  Did  Mr.  John  get  anything?" 

"  Ask  him,  Elite." 

"  Did  you  get  anything,  Mr.  John  ?  "  said  Ellen, 
going  up  to  him  where  he  was  reading  on  the 
sofa. 

"  I  got  this,"  said  John,  handing  her  a  little  book 
which  lay  beside  him. 

"  What     is     this  ?      Wime's — Wiem's — Life    of 

Washington — Washington  ?    he    was May   I 

look  at  it  ? " 

"Certainly." 

She  opened  the  book,  and  presently  sat  down  on 
the  floor,  where  she  was  by  the  side  of  the  sofa. 
Whatever  she  had  found  within  the  leaves  of  the 
book,  she  had  certainly  lost  herself.  An  hour 
passed.  Ellen  had  not  spoken  or  moved  except  to 
turn  over  leaves.    • 

"  Ellen  !  "  said  John. 

She  looked  up,  her  cheeks  colored  high. 

"  What  have  you  found  there  ?  "  said  he,  smiling. 

"  Oh  a  great  deal !  But — did  Mr.  Marshman  give 
you  this  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Ellen,  looking  puzzled, — "  I  thought 
you  said  you  got  this  this  morning." 

"  No,  I  got  it  last  night.     I  got  it  for  you,  Ellie." 

"  For  me  !  "  said  Ellen,  her  color  deepening  very 
much, — "  for  me  !  did  you  ?  Oh,  thank  you ! — oh, 
I'm  so  much  obliged  to  you,   Mr.  John." 

"  It  is  only  an  answer  to  one  of  your  questions." 

"  This  !   is  it  ? — I    don't  know  what,  I  am   sure, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  85 

Oh,  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  please  you, 
Mr.  John  !  " 

"  You  shall,  Ellie  ;  you  shall  give  me  a  brother's 
right  again." 

Blushingly  Ellen  approached  her  lips  to  receive 
one  of  his  grave  kisses  ;  and  then,  not  at  all  dis- 
pleased, went  down  on  the  floor  and  was  lost  in  her 
book. 

Oh,  the  long  joy  of  that  New  Year's  day  ! — how 
shall  it  be  told  ?  The  pleasure  of  that  delightful 
book,  in  which  she  was  wrapped  the  whole  day ; 
even  when  called  off,  as  she  often  was,  by  Ellen 
Chauncey  to  help  her  in  fifty  little  matters  of  busi- 
ness or  pleasure.  These  were  attended  to,  and 
faithfully  and  cheerfully,  but  the  book  was  in  her 
head  all  the  while.  And  this  pleasure  was  mixed 
with  Alice's  pleasure,  the  flowers  and  the  miniature, 
and  Mr.  Marshman's  restored  kindness.  She  never 
met  John's  or  Alice's  eye  that  day  without  a  smile. 
Even  when  she  went  to  be  dressed  her  book  went 
with  her,  and  was  laid  on  the  bed  within  sight, 
ready  to  be  taken  up  the  moment  she  was  at  liberty. 
Ellen  Chauncey  lent  her  a  white  frock,  which  was 
found  to  answer  very  well  with  a  tuck  let  out ;  and 
Alice  herself  dressed  her.  While  this  was  doing, 
Margaret  Dunscombe  put  her  head  in  at  the  door 
to  ask  Anne,  Miss  Sophia's  maid,  if  she  was  almost 
ready  to  come  and  curl  her  hair. 

"  Indeed  I  can't  say  that  I  am,  Miss  Margaret," 
said  Anne.  "  I've  something  to  do  for  Miss  Hum- 
phreys, and  Miss  Sophia  hasn't  so  much  as  done 
the  first  thing  towards  beginning  to  get  ready  yet. 
It'll  be  a  good  hour  and  more." 

Margaret  went  away,  exclaiming  impatiently  that 


85  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

she  could  get  nobody  to  help  her,  and  would  have 
to  wait  till  everybody  was  downstairs. 

A  few  minutes  after  she  heard  Ellen's  voice  at 
the  door  of  her  room,  asking  if  she  might  come 
in. 

"  Yes — who's  that  ? — what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I'll  fix  your  hair  if  you'll  let  me,"  said  Ellen. 

"  You  ?     I  don't  believe  you  can." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can ;  I  used  to  do  mamma's  very 
often  ;  I  am  not  afraid  if  you'll  trust  me." 

"  Well,  thank  you,  I  don't  care  if  you  try,  then," 
said  Margaret,  seating  herself, — "  it  won't  do  any 
harm,  at  any  rate;  and  I  want  to  be  downstairs  be- 
fore anybody  gets  here  ;  I  think  it's  half  the  fun  to 
see  them  come  in.  Bless  me  ;  you're  dressed  and 
all  ready." 

Margaret's  hair  was  in  long  thick  curls  ;  it  was 
not  a  trifling  matter  to  dress  them.  Ellen  plodded 
through  it  patiently  and  faithfully,  taking  great 
pains,  and  doing  the  work  well,  and  then  went  back 
to  Alice.  Margaret's  thanks,  not  very  gracefully 
given,  would  have  been  a  poor  reward  for  the  loss 
of  three-quarters  of  an  hour  of  pleasure.  But  Ellen 
was  very  happy  in  having  done  right.  It  was  no 
longer  time  to  read  ;  they  must  go  downstairs. 

The  New  Year's  party  was  a  nondescript, — • 
young  and  old  together;  a  goodly  number  of  both 
were  gathered  from  Randolph  and  the  neighboring 
country.  There  were  games  for  the  young,  dancing 
for  the  gay,  and  a  superb  supper  for  all ;  and  the  big 
bright  rooms  were  full  of  bright  faces.  It  was  a 
very  happy  evening  to  Ellen.  For  a  good  part  of 
it  Mr.  Marshman  took  possession  of  her,  or  kept 
her  near  him  ;   and  his   extreme  kindness    wouW 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  87 

alone  have  made  the  evening  piss  pleasantly  \  she 
was  sure  he  was  her  firm  friend  again. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  Mrs.  Chauncey 
found  occasion  to  ask  her  about  her  journey  up  the 
river,  without  at  all  mentioning  Margaret  or  what 
she  had  said.  Ellen  answered  that  she  had  come 
with  Mrs.  Dunscombe  and  her  daughter. 

"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  time  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Chauncey. 

"Why,  no,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, — "I  don't  know 
— it  was  partly  pleasant  and  partly  unpleasant." 

"  What  made  it  so,  love  ? " 

"  I  had  left  mamma  that  morning,  and  that  made 
me  unhappy." 

"  But  you  said  it  was  partly  pleasant  ? " 

"  Oh,  that  was  because  I  had  such  a  good  friend 
on  board,"  said  Ellen,  her  face  lighting  up,  as  his 
image  came  before  her. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  who  he  was." 

"  A  stranger  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am — I  never  saw  him  before — I  wish 
I  could  see  him  again." 

"  Where  did  you  find  him  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  find  him — he  found  me,  when  I  was  sit- 
ting up  on  the  highest  part  of  the  boat." 

"  And  your  friends  with  you  ?  " 

"  What  friends  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Dunscombe  and  her  daughter." 

"  No,  ma'am — they  were  down  in  the  cabin." 

"  And  what  business  had  you  to  be  wandering 
about  the  boat  alone  ? "  said  Mr.  Marshman,  good- 
humoredly. 

"  They  were  strangers,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  coloring 
a  little. 


88  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Well,  so  was  this  man — your  friend — a  stranger 
too,  wasn't  he  ?  " 

"'Oh,  he  was  a  very  different  stranger,"  said 
Ellen,  smiling, — "  and  he  wasn't  a  stranger  long, 
besides." 

"  Well,  you  must  tell  me  more  about  him, — come, 
I'm  curious  ; — what  sort  of  a  strange  friend  was 
this  ?  " 

"  He  wasn't  a  strange  friend, "  said  Ellen,  laugh- 
ing ; — "  he  was  a  very,  very  good  friend  ;  he  took 
care  of  me  the  whole  day ;  he  was  very  good  and 
very  kind." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey ; — 
"  a  gentleman  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am  !  "  said  Ellen,  looking  surprised 
at  the  question.     "  I  am  sure  he  was." 

"  What  did  he  look  like  ?  " 

Ellen  tried  to  tell,  but  the  portrait  was  not  very 
distinct. 

"  What  did  he  wear  ?     Coat  or  cloak  ? " 

"  Coat— dark  brown,  I  think." 

"  This  was  in  the  end  of  October,  wasn't  it  ?" 

Ellen  thought  a  moment  and  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  And  you  don't  know  his  name  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I  wish  I  did." 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey,  smiling ; 
"  he  is  one  of  my  best  friends  too,  Ellen  ;  it  is  my 
brother,  Mr.  George  Marshman." 

How  Ellen's  face  crimsoned  !  Mr.  Marshman 
asked  how  she  knew. 

"  It  was  then  he  came  up  the  river,  you  know, 
sir  ;  and  don't  you  remember  of  his  speaking  of  a 
little  girl  on  board  the  boat  who  was  traveling  with 
strangers,  and  whom  he   endeavored    to  befriend  ? 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  89 

I  had  forgotten  it  entirely  till  a  minute  01  two 
ago." 

"  Miss  Margaret  Dunscombe  !  "  cried  George 
Walsh,  "  what  kind  of  a  person  was  that  you  said 
Ellen  was  so  fond  of  when  you  came  up  the 
river  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  nor  care, "'said  Margaret.  "  Some- 
body she  picked  up  somewhere." 

"  It  was  Mr.  George  Marshman  ! " 

"  It  wasn't !  " 

"  Uncle  George  ! "  exclaimed  Ellen  Chauncey,, 
running  Up  to  the  group  her  cousin  had  quitted ; — 
"  My  Uncle  George  ?  Do  you  know  Uncle  George., 
Ellen?" 

"  Very  much — I  mean — yes,"  said  Ellen. 

Ellen  Chauncey  was  delighted.  So  was  Ellen. 
Montgomery.  It  seemed  to  bring  the  whole  family 
nearer  to  her,  and  they  felt  it  too.  Mrs.  Marshman 
kissed  her  when  she  heard  it,  and  said  she  remem- 
bered very  well  her  son's  speaking  of  her,  and  was 
very  glad  to  find  who  it  was.  And  now,  Ellen 
thought,  she  would  surely  see  him  again  some 
time. 

The  next  day  they  left  Ventnor.  Ellen  Chauncey 
was  very  sorry  to  lose  her  new  friend,  and  begged 
she  would  come  again  "  as  soon  as  she  could." 
All  the  family  said  the  same.  Mr.  Marshman  told 
her  she  must  give  him  a  large  place  in  her  heart,, 
or  he  should  be  jealous  of  her  "  strange  friend ;  " 
and  Alice  was  charged  to  bring  her  whenever  she 
came  to  see  them. 

The  drive  back  to  Carra-carra  was  scarcely  less 
pleasant  than  the  drive  out  had  been  ;  and  home 
Ellen  said,  looked  lovely.     That    >s,  Alice's  home. 


9° 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


which  she  began  to  think  more  her  own  than  anj 
other.  The  pleasure  of  the  past  ten  days,  though 
great,  had  not  been  unmixed ;  the  week  that  fol- 
lowed was  one  of  perfect  enjoyment.  In  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys' household  there  was  an  atmosphere  of 
peace  and  purity  that  even  a  child  could  feel  and 
in  which  such  a  child  as  Ellen  throve  exceedingly.- 
The  drawing-lessons  went  on  with  great  success; 
•other  lessons  were  begun  ;  there  were  fine  long 
walks,  and  charming  sleigh-rides,  and  more  than 
one  visit  to  Mrs.  Vawse  ;  and  what  Ellen  per- 
haps liked  best  of  all,  the  long  evenings  of  conversa- 
tion and  reading  aloud,  and  bright  firelights,  and 
brighter  sympathy  and  intelligence  and  affection. 
That  week  did  them  all  good,  and  no  one  more  than 
Ellen. 

It  was  a  little  hard  to  go  back  to  Miss  Fortune's 
and  begin  her  old  life  there.  She  went  in  the 
evening  of  the  day  John  had  departed.  They  were 
at  supper. 

* "  Well  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  as  Ellen  entered, 
u  have  you  got  enough  of  visiting  ?  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  go  where  I  wasn't  wanted,  for  my 
part." 

"  I  haven't,  Aunt  Fortune,"  said  Ellen. 

"  She's  been  nowhere  but  what's  done  her  good," 
said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  "  she's  really  growed  hand- 
some since  she's  been  away." 

"  Grown  a  fiddlestick  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune. 

"  She  couldn't  grow  handsomer  than  she  was 
before,"  said  the  old  grandmother,  hugging  and 
•kissing  her  little  granddaughter  with  great  delight; 
- — "  the  sweetest  posie  in  the  garden  she  always 
was !  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  91 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  as  if  he  entirely  agreed 
with  the  old  lady.  That,  while  it  made  some  amends 
for  Miss  Portune's  dryness,  perhaps  increased  it. 
She  remarked,  that  she  thanked  heaven,  she  could 
always  make  herself  contented  at  home  ;  which 
Ellen  couid  not  help  thinking  was  a  happiness  for 
the  rest  of  the  world. 

In  the  matter  of  the  collar,  it  was  hard  to  say 
whether  the  giver  or  receiver  had  the  most  satis- 
faction. Ellen  had  begged  him  not  to  speak  of  it 
to  her  aunt ;  and  accordingly  one  Sunday  when 
he  came  there  with  it  on,  both  he  and  she  were  in 
a  state  of  exquisite  delight.  Miss  Fortune's  atten- 
tipn  was  at  last  aroused  ;  she  made  a  particular 
review  of  him,  and  ended  it  by  declaring  that  "he 
looked  uncommonly  dandified,  but  she  could  not 
make  out  what  he  had  done  to  himself  ;  "  a  remark 
which  transported  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  Ellen  beyond 
all  bounds  of  prudence. 

Nancy's  Bible,  which  had  been  purchased  for 
her  at  Randolph,  was  given  to  her  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. Ellen  anxiously  watched  her  as  she  slowly 
turned  it  over,  her  face  showing,  however,  very 
decided  approbation  of  the  style  of  the  gift.  She 
shook  her  head  once  or  twice,   and  then  said, 

"  What  did  you  give  this  to  me  for,  Ellen  ? " 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  give  you  something  for 
New  Year,"  said  Ellen, — "  and  I  thought  that 
would  be  the  best  thing, — if  you  would  only  read  it, 
■ — it  would  make  you  so  happy  and  good." 

"  You  are  good,  I  believe,"  said  Nancy,  "  but  I 
don't  expect  ever  to  be  myself — I  don't  think  I 
could  be.  You  might  as  well  teach  a  snake  not  to 
wriggle." 


92  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  am  not  good  at  all,"  said  Ellen, — "we're  none 
of  us  good," — and  the  tears  rose  to  her  eyes, — "  but 
the  Bible  will  teach  us  how  to  be.  If  you'll  only 
read  it ! — please,  Nancy,  do  !  Say  you  will  read  a 
little  every  day." 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  make  a  promise  I 
shouldn't  keep,  I  guess,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  keep  that,  so  I  won't  promise 
it ;  but  I  tell  you  what  I  will do, — I'll  take  precious 
fine  care  of  it,  and  keep  it  always  for  your  sake." 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  sighing,  "  I  am  glad  you  will 
even  do  so  much  as  that.  But,  Nancy — before 
you  begin  to  read  the  Bible  you  may  have  to  go 
where  you  never  can  read  it,  nor  be  happy  nor 
good  neither." 

Nancy  made  no  answer,  but  walked  away,  Ellen 
thought  rather  more  soberly  than  usual. 

This  conversation  had  cost  Ellen  some  effort.  It 
had  not  been  made  without  a  good  deal  of  thought 
and  some  prayer.  She  could  not  hope  she  had 
done  much  good,  but  she  had  done  her  duty.  And 
it  happened  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  standing  behind 
the  angle  of  the  wall,  had  heard  every  word. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

If  erst  he  wished,  now  he  longed  sore . 

Fairfax. 

Ellen's  life  had  nothing  to  mark  it  for  many 
months.  The  rest  of  the  winter  passed  quietly 
away,  every  day  being  full  of  employment.  At 
home  the  state  of  matters  was  rather  bettered. 
Either  Miss  Fortune  was  softened  by  Ellen's  gentle, 
inoffensive  ways  and  obedient  usefulness,  or   she 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  93 

had  resolved  to  bear  what  could  not  be  helped, 
and  make  the  best  of  the  little  inmate  she  could 
not  get  rid  of.  She  was  certainly  resolved  to  make 
the  most  of  her.  Ellen  was  kept  on  the  jump  a 
great  deal  of  the  time  ;  she  was  runner  of  errands 
and  maid  of  all  work ;  to  set  the  table  and  clear  it 
was  only  a  trifle  in  the  list  of  her  every-day  duties  ; 
and  they  were  not  ended  till  the  last  supper  dish 
was  put  away  and  the  hearth  swept  up.  Miss 
Fortune  never  spared  herself  and  never  spared 
Ellen,  so  long  as  she  had  any  occasion  for  her. 

There  were,  however,  long  pieces  of  time  that 
were  left  free  ;  these  Ellen  seized  for  her  studies 
and  used  most  diligently.  Urged  on  by  a  three  or 
four  fold  motive.  For  the  love  of  them,  and  fot 
her  own  sake, — that  John  might  think  she  had 
done  well, — that  she  might  presently  please  and 
satisfy  Alice,  above  all,  that  her  mother's  wishes 
might  be  answered.  This  thought,  whenever  it 
came,  was  a  spur  to  her  efforts ;  so  was  each  of  the 
others ;  and  Christian  feeling  added  another,  and 
kept  all  the  rest  in  force.  Without  this,  indolence 
might  have  weakened  or  temptation  surprised  her 
resolution  ;  little  Ellen  was  opened  to  both  ;  but  if 
ever  she  found  herself  growing  careless,  from  either 
cause,  conscience  was  sure  to  smite  her ;  and  then 
would  rush  in  all  the  motives  that  called  upon  her 
to  persevere.  Soon  faithfulness  began  to  bring  its 
reward.  With  delight  she  found  herself  getting 
the  better  of  difficulties,  beginning  to  see  a  little 
through  the  mists  of  ignorance,  making  some  sen- 
sible progress  on  the  long  road  of  learning.  Study 
grew  delightful  ;  her  lessons  with  Alice  one  of  her 
greatest  enjoyments.     And  as  they  were  a  labor  of 


94  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

love  to  both  teacher  and  scholar,  and  as  it  was  the 
aim  of  each  to  see  quite  to  the  bottom  of  every 
matter,  where  it  was  possible, -and  to  leave  no  diffi- 
culties behind  them  on  the  road  which  they  had 
not  cleared  away,  no  wonder  Ellen  went  forward 
steadily  and  rapidly.  Reading  also  became  a  won- 
derful pleasure.  Wiem's  Life  of  Washington  was 
read,  and  read,  and  read  over  again,  till  she  almost 
knew  it  by  heart  ;  and  from  that  she  went  to  Alice's 
library  and  ransacked  it  for  what  would  suit  her. 
Happily  it  was  a  well  picked  one,  and  Ellen  could 
not  light  upon  many  books  that  would  do  her 
mischief.  For  those,  Alice's  wish  was  enough  ; — 
she  never  opened  them.  Furthermore,  Alice  in- 
sisted that  when  Ellen  had  once  fairly  begun  a 
book  she  should  go  through  with  it  ;  not  capri- 
ciously leave  it  for  another,  nor  have  half  a  dozen 
about  at  a  time.  But  when  Ellen  had  read  it  once 
she  commonly  wanted  to  go  over  it  again,  and 
seldom  laid  it  aside  until  she  had  sucked  the  sweet- 
ness all  out  of  it. 

As  for  drawing,  it  could  not  go  on  very  fast  while 
the  cold  weather  lasted.  Ellen  had  no  place  at 
home  where  she  could  spread  out  her  paper  and 
copies  without  danger  of  being  disturbed.  Her 
only  chance  was  at  the  parsonage.  John  had  put 
all  her  pencils  in  order  before  he  went,  and  had 
left  her  an  abundance  of  copies,  marked  as  she  was 
to  take  them.  They,  or  some  of  them  were  bestowed 
in  Alice's  desk  ;  and  whenever  Ellen  had  a  spare 
hour  or  two,  of  a  fine  morning  or  afternoon,  she 
made  the  best  of  her  way  to  the  mountain  ;  it  made 
no  difference  whether  Alice  were  at  home  or  not ; 
she  went  in,  coaxed  up  the  fire,    and    began    her 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  95 

work.  It  happened  many  a  time  that  Alice,  coming 
ihome  from  a  walk  or  a  run  in  the  woods,  saw  the 
little  hood  and  cloak  on  the  settee  before  she 
•opened  the  glass  door,  and  knew  very  well  how 
she  should  find  Ellen,  bending  intently  over  her 
desk.  These  runs  to  the  mountain  were  very  fre- 
quent ;  sometimes  to  draw,  sometimes  to  recite, 
always  to  see  Alice  and  be  happy.  Ellen  grew 
rosy  and  hardy,  and  in  spite  of  her  separation  from 
her  mother,  she  was  very  happy  too.  Her  extreme 
and  varied  occupation  made  this  possible.  She 
:had  no  time  to  indulge  useless  sorrow  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, her  thoughts  were  taken  up  with  agreeable 
matters,  either  doing  or  to  be  done  ;  and  at  night 
she  was  far  too  tired  and  sleepy  10  lie  awake  mus- 
ing. And  besides  she  hoped  that  her  mother  would 
come  back  in  the  spring,  or  the  summer  at  farthest. 
It  is  true  Ellen  had  no  liking  for  the  kind  of  busi- 
ness her  aunt  gave  her  ;  it  was  oftentimes  a  trial 
of  temper  and  patience.  Miss  Fortune  was  not  the 
pleasantest  work-mistress  in  the  world,  and  Ellen 
was  apt  to  wish  to  be  doing  something  else  ;  but 
after  all  this  was  not  amiss.  Besides  the  discipline 
•of  character,  these  trials  made  the  pleasant  things 
with  which  they  were  mixed  up  seem  doubly  pleas- 
ant ;  the  disagreeable  parts  of  her  life  relished  the 
agreeable  wonderfully.  After  spending  the  whole 
morning  with  Miss  Fortune  in  the  depths  of  house- 
work, how  delightful  it  was  to  forget  all  in  drawing 
some  nice  little  cottage  with  a  bit  of  stonewall  and 
a  barrel  in  front ;  or  to  go  with  Alice,  in  thought 
to  the  south  of  France,  and  learn  how  the  peasants 
manage  their  vines,  and  make  the  wine  from  them  ; 
or  run  over  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar  with  the  monkeys; 


96  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

or  at  another  time,  seated  on  a  little  bench  in  the 
chimney  corner,  when  the  fire  blazed  up  well,  before 
the  candles  were  lighted,  to  forget  the  kitchen  and 
the  supper  and  her  bustling  aunt,  and  sail  round 
the  world  with  Captain  Cook.  Yes — these  things 
were  all  the  sweeter  for  being  tasted  by  snatches. 

Spring  brought  new  occupation  ;  household 
labors  began  to  increase  in  number  and  measure  ; 
her  leisure  times  were  shortened.  But  pleasures 
were  increased  too.  When  the  snow  went  off,  and 
spring-like  days  began  to  come,  and  birds'  notes 
were  heard  again,  and  the  trees  put  on  their  young 
leaves,  and  the  brown  mountains  were  looking  soft 
and  green,  Ellen's  heart  bounded  at  the  sight. 
The  springing  grass  was  lovely  to  see  ;  dandelions 
were  marvels  of  beauty ;  to  her  each  wild  wood- 
flower  was  a  never  to  be  enough  admired  and  loved 
wonder.  She  used  to  take  long  rambles  with  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  when  business  led  him  to  the  woods, 
sometimes  riding  part  of  the  way  on  the  ox-sled. 
Always  a  basket  for  flowers  went  along  ;  and  when 
the  sled  stopped,  she  would  wander  all  around,  seek- 
ing among  the  piled-up  dead  leaves  for  the  white 
wind-flower,  and  pretty  little  hang-head  Uvularia, 
and  delicate  blood-root,  and  the  wild  geranium  and 
columbine ;  and  many  others  the  names  of  which  she 
did  not  know.  They  were  like  friends  to  Ellen  ;  she 
gathered  them  affectionately  as  well  as  admiringly 
into  her  little  basket,  and  seemed  to  purify  herself 
in  their  pure  companionship.  Even  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  came  to  have  an  indistinct  notion  that  Ellen 
ar.ql  flowers  were  made  to  be  together.  After  he 
found  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  her  to  go  on  these 
expeditions,  he  made  it  a  point,  whenever  he    was 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE    WORLD.  gy 

bound  to  the  woods  of  a  fine  day,  to  come  to  the 
house  for  her.  Miss  Fortune  might  object  as  sht 
pleased  ;  he  always  found  an  answer ;  and  at  last 
Ellen  to  her  great  joy,  would  be  told,  "  Well !  gc. 
get  your  bonnet  and  be  off  with  yourself."  Onc^ 
under  the  shadow  of  the  big  trees,  the  dried  leaves 
crackling  beneath  her  feet,  and  alone  with  her 
kind  conductor, — and  Miss  Fortune  and  all  in  the 
world  that  was  disagreeable  was  forgotten — forgot- 
ten no  more  to  be  remembered  till  the  walk  should 
come  to  an  end.  And  it  would  have  surprised  any- 
body to  hear  the  long  conversations  she  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  kept  up, — he,  the  silentest  man  in 
Thirlwall !  Their  talk  often  ran  upon  trees,  among 
which  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  at  home.  Ellen  wanted 
to  become  acquainted  with  them,  as  well  as  with 
the  little  flowers  that  grew  at  their  feet ;  and  he 
tried  to  teach  her  how  to  know  each  separate  kind 
by  the  bark  and  leaf  and  manner  of  growth.  The 
pine  and  hemlock  and  fir  were  easily  learnt ;  the 
white  birch  too  ;  beyond  those  at  first  she  was  per- 
petually confounding  one  with  another.  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  had  to  go  over  and  over  his  instructions ; 
never  weary,  always  vastly  amused.  Pleasant  les- 
sons these  were  !  Ellen  thought  so,  and  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  thought  so  too. 

Then  there  were  walks  with  Alice,  pleasanter 
still,  if  that  could  be.  And  even  in  the  house 
Ellen  managed  to  keep  a  token  of  spring-time.  On 
her  toilet-table,  the  three  uncouth  legs  of  which 
were  now  hidden  by  a  neat  dimity  cover,  there 
always  stood  a  broken  tumbler  with  a  supply  of 
flowers.  The  supply  was  very  varied,  it  is  true ; 
sometimes  only  a  handful  of  dandelions,  sometimes 


98  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

a  huge  bunch  of  lilac  flowers,  which  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  stay  in  the  glass  without  the  help  of 
the  wall,  against  which  it  leaned  in  very  -undigni 
fled  style  ;  sometimes  the  bouquet  was  of  really 
delicate  and  beautiful  wild  flowers.  All  were  charm- 
ing in  Ellen's  eyes. 

As  the  days  grew  long  and  the  weather  warm, 
Alice  and  she  began  to  make  frequent  trips  to  the 
Cat's  Back,  and  French  came  very  much  into 
fashion.  They  generally  took  Sharp  to  ease  the 
long  way,  and  rested  themselves  with  a  good  stay 
on  the  mountain.  Their  coming  was  always  a  joy 
to  the  old  lady.  She  was  dearly  fond  of  them  both, 
and  delighted  to  hear  from  their  lips  the  language 
she  loved  best.  After  a  time  they  spoke  nothing 
else  when  with  her.  She  was  well  qualified  to  teach 
them  ;  and  indeed  her  general  education  had  been 
far  from  contemptible,  though  nature  had  done 
more  for  her.  As  the  language  grew  familiar  to 
them,  she  loved  to  tell,  and  they  to  hear,  long 
stories  of  her  youth  and  native  country, — scenes 
and  people  so  very  different  from  all  Ellen  had  ever 
seen  or  heard  of ;  and  told  in  a  lively,  simple  style 
which  she  could  not  have  given  in  English,  and 
with  a  sweet  coloring  of  Christian  thought  and 
feeling.  Many  things  made  these  visits  good  and 
pleasant.  It  was  not  the  least  of  Alice's  and  Ellen's 
joy  to  carry  their  old  friend  something  that  might 
be  for  her  comfort  in  her  lonely  way  of  life.  For 
even  Miss  Fortune  now  and  then  told  Ellen  "  she 
might  take  a  piece  of  that  cheese  along  with  her ;  " 
or  "  she  wondered  if  the  old  lady  would  like  a  little 
fresh  meat  ? — she  guessed  she'd  cut  her  a  bit  of  that 
nice  larnb  ;  she  wouldn't  want   but   a  little   piece." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  99 

A  singular  testimony  this  was  to  the  respect  and 
esteem  Mrs.  Vawse  had  from  everybody.  Miss 
Fortune  very,  very  seldom  was  known  to  take  a  bit 
from  her  own  comforts  to  add  to  those  of  another. 
The  ruling  passion  of  this  lady  was  thrift ;  her  next, 
good  housewifery.  First,  to  gather  to  herself  and 
heap  up  of  what  the  world  most  esteems ;  after 
that,  to  be  known  as  the  most  thorough  housekeeper 
and  the  smartest  woman  in  Thirlwall. 

Ellen  made  other  visits  she  did  not  like  so  welL 
In  the  course  of  the  winter  and  summer  she  be- 
came acquainted  with  most  of  the  neighborhood. 
She  sometimes  went  with  her  aunt  to  a  formal  tea- 
drinking,  one,  two,  three,  or  four  miles  off,  as  the 
case  might  be.  They  were  not  very  pleasant.  To 
some  places  she  was  asked  by  herself ;  and  though 
the  people  invariably  showed  themselves  very  kind, 
and  did  their  best  to  please  her,  Ellen  seldom  cared 
to  go  a«second  time  ;  liked  even  home  and  Miss 
Fortune  better.  There  were  a  few  exceptions  : 
Jenny  Hitchcock  was  one  of  her  favorites,  and 
Jane  Huff  was  another ;  and  all  of  their  respective 
families  came  in,  with  good  reason,  for  a  share  of 
her  regard,  Mr.  Juniper,  indeed,  excepted.  Once 
they  went  to  a  quilting  at  Squire  Dennison's  ;  the 
house  was  spotlessly  neat  and  well  ordered  ;  the 
people  all  kind  ;  but  Ellen  thought  they  did  not 
seem  to  know  how  to  be  pleasant.  Dan  Dennison 
alone  had  no  stiffness  about  him.  Miss  Fortune 
remarked  with  pride  that  even  in  this  family  of 
pretension,  as  she  thought  it,  the  refreshments 
could  bear  no  comparison  with  hers.  Once  they 
were  invited  to  tea  at  the  Lawsons'  ;  but  Ellen  told 
Alice,  with  much  apparent    disgust,  that  she  never 


ioo  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

wanted  to  go  again.  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  she  sa\« 
often.     To  Thirlwall  Miss  Fortune  never  went. 

Twice  in  the  course  of  the  summer  Ellen  had  a 
very  great  pleasure  in  the  company  of  little  Ellen 
Chauncey.  Once  Miss  Sophia  brought  her,  and 
once  her  mother  •  and  the  last  time  they  made  a 
visit  of  two  weeks.  On  both  occasions,  Ellen  was 
sent  for  to  the  parsonage  and  kept  while  they  stayed  ; 
and  the  pleasure  that  she  and  her  little  friend 
had  together  cannot  be  told.  It  was  unmixed  now. 
Rambling  about  through  the  woods  and  over  the 
fields,  no  matter  where,  it  was  all  enchanting ; 
helping  Alice  garden  ;  helping  Thomas  make  hay, 
and  the  mischief  they  did  his  haycocks  by  tumbling 
upon  them,  and  the  patience  with  which  he  bore  it ; 
the  looking  for  eggs  ;  the  helping  Margery  churn, 
and  the  helping  each  other  set  tables  ;  the  pleasant 
mornings  and  pleasant  evenings  and  pleasant  mid- 
days,— it  cannot  be  told.  Long  to  be  remembered, 
sweet  and  pure,  was  the  pleasure  of  those  summer 
days,  unclouded  by  a  shade  of  discontent  or  disagree- 
ment on  either  brow.  Ellen  loved  the  whole  Marsh- 
man  family  now,  for  the  sake  of  one,  the  one  she  had 
first  known  ;  and  little  Ellen  Chauncey  repeatedly 
told  her  mother  in  private  that  Ellen  Montgomery 
was  the  very  nicest  girl  she  had  ever  seen.  They 
met  with  joy  and  parted  with  sorrow,  entreating 
and  promising,  if  possible,  a  speedy  meeting  again. 

Amidst  all  the  improvement  and  enjoyment  of 
these  summer  months — and  they  had  a  great  deal 
of  both  for  Ellen — there  was  one  cause  of  sorrow 
she  could  not  help  feeling,  and  it  began  to  press  more 
and  more.  Letters, — they  came  slowly, — and  when 
they  came  they  were  not  at  all  satisfactory.     Those 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  101 

in  her  mother's  hand  dwindled  and  dwindled,  till 
at  last  there  came  only  mere  scraps  of  letters  from 
her  ;  and  sometimes  after  a  long  interval  one  from 
Captain  Montgomery  would  come  alone.  Ellen's 
heart  sickened  with  long-deferred  hope.  She 
wondered  what  could  make  her  mother  neglect  a 
matter  so  necessary  for  her  happiness  ;  sometimes 
she  fancied  they  were  traveling  about,  and  it  might 
be  inconvenient  to  write  ;  sometimes  she  thought 
perhaps  they  were  coming  home  without  letting 
her  know,  and  would  suddenly  surprise  her  some 
■day  and  make  her  half  lose  her  wits  with  joy.  But 
they  did  not  come,  nor  write ;  and  whatever  was 
the  reason,  Ellen  felt  it  was  very  sad,  and  sadder 
and  sadder  as  the  summer  went  on.  Her  own  letters 
became  pitiful  in  their  supplications  for  letters  ; 
they  had  been  very  cheerful  and  filled  with  encour- 
aging matter,  and  in  part  they  were  still. 

For  a  while  her  mind  was  diverted  from  this  sad 
subject,  and  her  brow  cleared  up,  when  John  came 
home  in  August.  As  before,  Alice  gained  Miss 
Fortune's  leave  to  keep  her  at  the  parsonage  the 
whole  time  of  his  stay,  which  was  several  weeks. 
Ellen  wondered  that  it  was  so  easily  granted,  but 
she  was  much  too  happy  to  spend  time  in  thinking 
about  it.  Miss  Fortune  had  several  reasons.  She 
wras  unwilling  to  displease  Miss  Humphreys,  and 
conscious  that  it  would  be  a  shame  to  her  to  stand 
openly  in  the  way  of  Ellen's  good.  Besides, 
though  Ellen's  services  were  lost  for  a  time,  yet 
she  said  she  got  tired  of  setting  her  to  work  ;  she 
liked  to  dash  round  the  house  alone,  without  think- 
ing what  somebody  else  was  doing  or  ought  to  be 
doing.     In  short  she  liked  to  have  her  out  of  the 


102  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

way  far  a  while.  Furthermore,  it  did  not  please 
her  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  her  little  handmaid 
were,  as  she  expressed  it,  "  so  thick."  His  first 
thought  and  his  last  thought,  she  said,  she  believed 
were  for  Ellen,  whether  he  came  in  or  went  out; 
and  Miss  Fortune  was  accustomed  to  be  chief,  not 
only  in  her  own  house,  but  in  the  regards  of  all 
who  came  to  it.  At  any  rate  the  leave  was  granted 
and  Ellen  went. 

And  now  was  repeated  the  pleasure  of  the  first 
week  in  January.  It  would  have  been  increased, 
but  that  increase  was  not  possible.  There  was 
only  the  difference  between  lovely  winter  and 
lovely  summer  weather ;  it  was  seldom  very  hot 
in  Thirlwall.  The  fields  and  hills  were  covered 
with  green  instead  of  white  ;  fluttering  leaves 
had  taken  the  place  of  snow-covered  sprays 
and  sparkling  icicles  ;  and  for  the  keen  north  and 
brisk  northwester,  soft  summer  airs  were  blowing. 
Ellen  saw  no  other  difference, — except  that,  per- 
haps, if  it  could  be,  there  was  something  more  of 
tenderness  in  the  manner  of  Alice  and  her  brother 
towards  her.  No  little  sister  could  have  been 
more  cherished  and  cared  for.  If  there  was  a 
change,  Mr.  Humphreys  shared  it.  It  is  true,  he 
seldom  took  much  part  in  the  conversation,  and 
seldomer  was  with  them  in  any  of  their  pursuits  or 
pleasures.  He  generally  kept  by  himself  in  his 
study.  But  whenever  he  did  speak  to  Ellen  his 
tone  was  particularly  gentle  and  his  look  kind.  He 
sometimes  called  her  "  My  little  daughter,"  which 
always  gave  Ellen  great  pleasure  ;  she  would  jump 
at  such  times  with  double  zeal  to  do  anything  he 
asked  her. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  103 

Now  drawing  went  on  with  new  vigor  under  the 
eye  of  her  master.  And  many  things  besides. 
John  took  a  great  deal  of  pains  with  her  in  various 
ways.  He  made  her  read  to  him  ;  he  helped  her 
and  Alice  with  their  French ;  he  went  with  them  to 
Mrs.  Vawse's ;  and  even  Mr.  Humphreys  went 
there  too  one  afternoon  to  tea.  How  much  Ellen 
enjoyed  that  afternoon !  They  took  with  them  a 
great  basket  of  provisions,  for  Mrs.  Vawse  could 
not  be  expected  to  entertain  so  large  a  party  ;  and 
borrowed  Jenny  Hitchcock's  pony,  which  with  old 
John  and  Sharp  mounted  three  of  the  company  ; 
they  took  turns  in  walking.  Nobody  minded  that. 
The  fine  weather,  the  beautiful  mountain-top,  the 
general  pleasure,  Mr.  Humphreys'  uncommon 
spirits  and  talkableness,  the  oddity  of  their  way  of 
traveling,  and  of  a  tea-party  up  on  the  "  Cat's 
Back,"  and  furthermore,  the  fact  that  Nancy  stayed 
at  home  and  behaved  very  well  the  whole  time,  all 
together  filled  Ellen's  cup  of  happiness,  for  the 
time,  as  full  as  it  could  hold.  She  never  forgot 
that  afternoon.  And  the  ride  home  was  the  best 
of  all.  The  sun  was  low  by  the  time  they  reached 
the  plain ;  long  shadows  lay  across  their  road  ; 
the  soft  air  just  stirred  the  leaves  on  the  branches; 
stillness  and  loveliness  were  over  all  things ;  and 
down  the  mountain  and  along  the  roads,  through 
the  open  country,  the  whole  way,  John  walked  at 
her  bridle ;  so  kind  in  his  care  of  her,  so  pleasant 
in  his  talk  to  her,  teaching  her  how  to  sit  in  the 
saddle  and  hold  the  reins  and  whip,  and  much 
more  important  things  too,  that  Ellen  thought  a 
pleasanter  thing  could  not  be  than  to  ride  so. 
After  that  they  took  a  great  many  rides,  borrow 


104  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

ing  Jenny's  pony  or  some  other,  and  explored  the 
beautiful  country  far  and  near.  And  almost  daily 
John  had  up  Sharp  and  gave  Ellen  a  regular  lesson. 
She  often  thought,  and  sometimes  looked,  what 
she  had  once  said  to  him,  "  I  wish  I  could  do  some- 
thing for  you,  Mr.  John  :  " — but  he  smiled  at  her 
and  said  nothing. 

At  last  he  was  gone.  And  in  all  the  weeks  he 
had  been  at  home,  and  in  many  weeks  before,  no 
letter  had  come  for  Ellen.  The  thought  had  been 
kept  from  weighing  upon  her  by  the  thousand  pleas- 
ures that  filled  up  every  moment  of  his  stay ;  she 
could  not  be  sad  then,  or  only  for  a  minute  ;  hope 
threw  off  the  sorrow  as  soon  as  it  was  felt  and  she 
forgot  how  time  flew.  But  when  his  visit  was  over, 
and  she  went  back  to  her  old  place  and  her  old 
life  at  her  aunt's  the  old  feeling  came  back  in 
greater  strength.  She  began  again  to  count  the 
days  and  the  weeks  ;  to  feel  the  bitter  unsatisfied 
longing.  Tears  would  drop  down  upon  her  Bible  ; 
tears  streamed  from  her  eyes  when  she  prayed  that 
God  would  make  her  mother  well  and  bring  her 
home  to  her  quickly, — oh,  quickly  ! — and  little 
Ellen's  face  began  to  wear  once  more  something 
of  its  old  look. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

All  was  ended  now,  the  hope,  and  the  fear,  and  the  sorrow, 
All  the  aching  of  heart,  the  restless,  unsatisfied  longing, 
All  the  dull  deep  pain,  and  constant  anguish  of  patience  ! 

Longfellow. 

One  day  in  the  early  part  of  September,  she  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  house  at  the  little  wicket 
that  opened  on  the  road.  With  her  back  against 
the  open  gate  she  was  gently  moving  it  to  and  fro, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  iot, 

half  enjoying  the  weather  and  the  scene,  half  in- 
dulging the  melancholy  mood  which  drove  her  from 
the  presence  of  her  bustling  aunt.  The  gurgling 
sound  of  the  brook  a  few  steps  off  was  a  great  deal 
more  soothing  to  her  ear  than  Miss  Fortune's  sharp 
tones.  By  and  by  a  horseman  came  in  sight  at  the 
far  end  of  the  road,  and  the  brook  was  forgotten. 
What  made  Ellen  look  at  him  so  sharply  ?  Poor 
child,  she  was  always  expecting  news.  At  first  she 
could  only  see  that  the  man  rode  a  white  horse ; 
then,  as  he  came  nearer,  an  odd  looped-up  hat 
showed  itself, — and  something  queer  in  his  hand, 
— what  was  it  ?  who  is  it  ? — the  old  newsman  ! 
Ellen  was  sure.  Yes — she  could  now  see  his  sad- 
dle bags,  and  the  white  horse-tail  set  in  a  handle 
with  which  he  was  brushing  away  the  flies  from  his 
horse ;  the  tin  trumpet  was  in  his  other  hand,  to 
blow  withal.  He  was  a  venerable  old  figure,  with 
all  his  oddities ;  clad  in  a  suit  of  snuff  brown,  with 
a  neat  quiet  look  about  him,  he  and  his  saddle-bags 
and  the  white  horse  jogged  on  together,  as  if  they 
belonged  to  nothing  else  in  the  world  but  each  other. 
In  an  ecstasy  of  fear  and  hope,  Ellen  watched  the 
pace  of  the  old  horse  to  see  if  it  gave  any  sign  of 
slackening  near  the  gate.  Her  breath  came  short, 
she  hardly  breathed  at  all,  she  was  trembling  from 
head  to  foot.  Would  he  stop,  or  was  he  going  on  ! 
Oh,  the  long  agony  of  two  minutes  ! — He  stopped. 
Ellen  went  towards  him. 

"  What  little  gal  is  this  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  am  Ellen  Montgomery,  sir,"  said  Ellen 
eagerly  ; — "  Miss  Fortune's  niece — I  live  here." 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  said  the  old  man,  taking  up  his 
saddle-bags, — "  Miss  Fortune's  niece,  eh  ?     Well— 


106  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

I  believe — as  I've  got  somethin'  for  her — somethin1 
here — aunt  well,  eh  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  That's  more  than  you  be,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  he, 
glancing  aside-ways  at  Ellen's  face.  "  How  do  you 
know  but  I've  got  a  letter  for  you  here,  eh  ?  " 

The  color  rushed  to  that  face,  and  she  clasped 
her  hands. 

"  No,  dear,  no,"  said  he, — "  I  ha'n't  got  any  for 
you — it's  for  the  old  lady — there,  run  with  it,  dear." 

But  Ellen  knew  before  she  touched  it  that  it  was 
a  foreign  letter,  and  dashed  into  the  house  with  it. 
Miss  Fortune  coolly  sent  her  back  to  pay  the  post- 
age. 

When  she  came  in  again  her  aunt  was  still 
reading  the  letter.  But  her  look,  Ellen  felt,  was 
unpromising.  She  did  not  venture  to  speak ;  ex- 
pectation was  chilled.  She  stood  till  Miss  Fortune 
began  to  fold  up  the  paper. 

"  Is  there  nothing  for  me  ?  "  she  said  then, 
timidly. 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  why  don't  she  write  to  me  !  "  cried  Ellen, 
bursting  into  tears. 

Miss  Fortune  stalked  about  the  room  without  any 
particular  purpose,  as  far  as  could  be  seen. 

"  It  is  very  strange  !  "  said  Ellen,  sorrowfully, — 
"  I  am  afraid  she  is  worse — does  papa  say  she  is 
worse  ?  " 

"No." 

"Oh,  if  she  had  only  sent  me  a  message!  I 
should  think  she  might ;  Oh,  I  wish  she  had  ! — • 
three  words  ! — does  papa  say  why  she  don't  write  !  " 

"  No." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  107 

"  It  is  very  strange  !  "  repeated  poor  Ellen. 

"  Your  father  talks  of  coming  home,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,  after  a  few  minutes,  during  which  Ellen 
had  been  silently  weeping. 

"  Home  ! — Then  she  must  be  better  !  "  said 
Ellen,  with  new  life  ;  "  does  papa  say  she  is  better  ? " 

"No." 

"  But  what  does  he  mean  ?  "  said  Ellen,  un- 
easily ; — "  I  don't  see  what  he  means ;  he  doesn't 
say  she  is  worse,  and  he  doesn't  say  she 
is    better, — what   does   he    say  ?  " 

"  He  don't  say  much  about  anything." 

"  Does  he  say  when  they  are  coming  home  ?" 

Miss  Fortune  mumbled  something  about "  Spring," 
and  whisked  off  to  the  buttery ;  Ellen  thought  no 
more  was  to  be  got  out  of  her.  She  felt  miserable. 
Her  father  and  her  aunt  both  seemed  to  act 
strangely  ;  and  where  to  find  comfort  she  scarcely 
iknew.  She  had  one  day  been  telling  her  doubts 
and  sorrows  to  John.  He  did  not  try  to  raise  her 
hopes,  but  said,  "  Troubles  will  come  in  this 
world,  Ellie  ;  the  best  is  to  trust  them  and  ourselves 
to  our  dear  Saviour,  and  let  trials  drive  us  to  him. 
Seek  to  love  him  more  and  to  be  patient  under  his 
will ;  the  good  Shepherd  means  nothing  but  kind- 
ness to  any  lamb  in  his  flock, — vou  may  be  sure 
of  that,.  Ellie." 

Ellen  remembered  his  words  and  tried  to  follow 
them  now,  but  she  could  not  be  "  patient  under 
His  will  "  yet, — not  quite.  It  was  very  hard  to  be 
patient  in  such  uncertainty.  With  swimming  eyes  she 
turned  over  her  Bible  in  search  of  comfort,  and  found 
it.  Her  eye  lit  upon  words  she  knew  very  well,  but 
that  were  like  the  fresh  sight  of  a  friend's  face  for. 


108  THE   WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

all  that, — "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  ;  ye 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  Me.  In  My  Father's 
house  are  many  mansions."  There  is  no  parting 
there,  thought  little  Ellen.  She  cried  a  long  time, 
but  she  was  comforted  nevertheless.  The  heart  that 
rests  on  the  blessed  One  who  said  those  words 
can  never  be  quite  desolate. 

For  several  days  things  went  on  in  the  old  train, 
only  her  aunt,  she  thought,  was  sometimes  rather 
queer  ; — not  quite  as  usual  in  her  manner  towards 
her.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  not  rather  but  very 
queer ;  he  scarce  spoke  or  looked  at  Ellen  ;  bolted 
down  his  food  and  was  off  without  a  word ;  and 
even  stayed  away  entirely  from  two  or  three  meals. 
She  saw  nobody  else.  Weather  and  other  cir- 
cumstances prevented  her  going  to  the  mountain. 

One  afternoon  she  was  giving  her  best  attention 
to  a  French  lesson,  when  she  heard  herself  called. 
Miss  Fortune  was  in  the  lower  kitchen  dipping 
candles.     Ellen  ran  down. 

"  I  don't  know  what's  got  into  these  candles," 
said  Miss  Fortune, — "  I  can't  make  'em  hang 
together  ;  the  tallow  ain't  good,  I  guess.  Where's 
the  nearest  place  they  keep  bees  ?  " 

"  They  have  got  bees  at  Mrs.  Hitchcock's," 
said  Ellen. 

"  So  they  have  in  Egypt,  for  anything  I  know," 
said  her  aunt ; — "  one  would  be  about  as  much 
good  now  as  t'other.  Mrs.  Lowndes  ! — that  ain't 
far  off.  Put  on  your  bonnet,  Ellen,  and  run  over 
there,  and  ask  her  to  let  me  have  a  little  bees-wax. 
I'll  pay  her  in  something  she  likes  best." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Lowndes  keep  bee-hives  ?  "  said 
Ellen  doubtfully. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  109 

"  No — she  makes  the  bees- wax  herself,"  said 
Miss  Fortune,  in  the  tone  she  always  took  when 
anybody  presumed  to  suppose  she  might  be  mistaken 
in  anything. 

"  How  much  shall  I  ask  her  for  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — a  pretty  good  piece." 

Ellen  was  not  very  clear  what  quantity  this  might 
mean.  However,  she  wisely  asked  no  more  ques- 
tions, and  set  out  upon  her  walk.  It  was  hot  and 
disagreeable  ;  just  the  time  of  day  when  the  sun 
had  most  power,  and  Mrs.  Lowndes'  house  was 
about  half  way  on  the  road  to  Alice's.  It  was  not 
a  place  where  Ellen  liked  to  go,  though  the  people 
always  made  much  of  her  ;  she  did  not  fancy  them, 
and  regularly  kept  out  of  their  way  when  she  could. 
Miss  Mary  Lawson  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Lowndes 
and  her  daughter  when  Ellen  came  in  and  briefly 
gave  her  aunt's  message. 

"Bees-wax,"  said  Mrs.  Lowndes, — "well,  I  don't 
know — how  much  does  she  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  exactly  ;  she  said  a  pretty 
good  piece." 

"  What's  it  for  ?  do  you  know,  honey  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it's  to  put  in  some  tallow  for  candles," 
said  Ellen  ; — "  the  tallow  was  too  soft,  she  said." 

"  I  didn't  know  Miss  Fortune's  tallow  was  ever 
anything  but  the  hardest,"  said  Sarah  Lowndes. 

"  You  had  better  not  let  your  aunt  know  you've 
lold  on  her,  Ellen,"  remarked  Mary  Lawson  ;  "  she 
won't  thank  you." 

"  Had  she  a  good  lot  of  taller  to  make  up  ? " 
inquired  the  mother,  preparing  to  cut  her  bees-wax. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am  ;  she  had  a  big  kettle,  but 
I  don't  know  how  full  it  was." 


HO  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  You  may  as  well  send  a  good  piece,  ma,  while 
you  are  about  it,"  said  the  daughter  ; — "  and  ask 
her  to  let  us  have  a  piece  of  her  sage  cheese,  will 
you  ? " 

"  Is  it  worth  while  to  weigh  it  ?  "  whispered 
Mrs.  Lowndes. 

Her  daughter  answered  in  the  same  tone,  and 
Miss  Mary  joining  them,  a  conversation  of  some 
length  went  on  over  the  bees-wax  which  Ellen  could 
not  hear.  The  tones  of  the  speaker  became  lower 
and  lower  ;  till  at  length  her  own  name  and  an  in- 
cautious sentence  were  spoken  more  distinctly  and 
reached  her. 

"  Shouldn't  you  think  Miss  Fortune  might  put  a 
black  ribbon  at  least  on  her  bonnet  ? " 

"  Anybody  but  her  would." 

"  Hush  ! "     They    whispered    again    under 

breath. 

The  words  entered  Ellen's  heart  like  cold  iron. 
She  did  not  move,  hand  or  foot;  she  sat  motion- 
less with  pain  and  fear,  yet  what  she  feared  she 
dared  not  think.  When  the  bees-wax  was  given 
her,  she  rose  up  from  her  chair  and  stood  gazing 
into  Mrs.  Lowndes'  face  as  if  she  had  lost  her 
senses. 

"  My  goodness,  child,  how  you  look !  "  said  that 
lady.     "  What  ails  you,  honey  ?  " 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Ellen, — "  what  was  that  you 
said,  about " 

"  About  what,  dear  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Lowndes,  with 
a  startled  look  at  the  others. 

"  About — a  ribbon — "  said  Ellen,  struggling  to 
get  the  words  out  of  white  lips. 

"My  goodness!"    said  the  other: — "did  you 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  in 

ever  hear  anything  like  that  ? — I  didn't  say  nothing 
about  a  ribbon,  dear." 

"  Do  you  suppose  her  aunt  ha'n't  told  her  ? " 
said  Miss  Mary  in  an  undertone. 

"  Told  me  what  ?  "  cried  Ellen—"  Oh,  what  ? — 
what  ? " 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  thousand  miles  off  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Lowndes  ; — "  I  don't  know,  dear — I  don't  know 
what  it  is — Miss  Alice  knows." 

"  Yes,  ask  Miss  Alice,"  said  Mary  Lawson  ; — 
'  she  knows  better  than  we  do." 

Ellen  looked  doubtfully  from  one  to  the  other ; 
then  as  "  Go  ask  Miss  Alice,"  was  repeated  on  all 
sides,  she  caught  up  her  bonnet  and  flinging  the 
bees-wax  from  her  hand  darted  out  of  the  house. 
Those  she  had  left  looked  at  each  other  a  minute 
in  silence. 

"  Ain't  that  too  bad,  now !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Lowndes,  crossing  the  room  to  shut  the  door.  "  But 
what  could  I  say  ?  " 

"  Which  way  did  she  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure — I  had  no  head  to 
look,  or  anything  else.  I  wonder  if  I  had  ought  to 
ha'  told  her. — But  I  couldn't  ha'  done  it." 

"  Just  look  at  her  bees-wax ! "  said  Sarah 
Lowndes. 

"  She  will  kill  herself  if  she  runs  up  the  mountain 
at  that  rate,"  said  Mary  Lawson. 

They  all  made  a  rush  to  the  door  to  look  after 
her. 

"  She  ain't  in  sight,"  said  Mrs.  Lowndes  ;  — "  if 
she's  gone  the  way  to  the  Nose  she's  got  as  far  as 
them  big  poplars  already,  or  she'd  be  somewhere 
this  side  of  'em  where  we  could  see  her." 


112  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  You  hadn't  ought  to  ha'  let  her  go,  'ma,  in  all 
this  sun,"  said  Miss  Lowndes. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Lowndes,  "  she  scared 
me  so  I  hadn't  three  idees  left  in  my  head.  I  wish 
I  knew  where  she  was,  though ;  poor  little 
soul ! " 

Ellen  was  far  on  her  way  to  the  mountain,  pressed 
forward  by  a  fear  that  knew  no  stay  of  heat  or 
fatigue  ;  they  were  little  to  her  that  day.  She  saw 
nothing  on  her  way ;  all  within  and  without  was 
swallowed  up  in  that  one  feeling  ;  yet  she  dared 
not  think  what  it  was  she  feared.  She  put  that  by. 
Alice  knew,  Alice  would  tell  her  ;  on  that  goal  her 
heart  fixed,  to  that  she  pressed  on  ;  but  oh,  the 
while,  what  a  cloud  was  gathering  over  her  spirit, 
and  growing  darker  and  darker.  Her  hurry  of 
mind  and  hurry  of  body  made  each  other  worse  ; 
it  must  be  so ;  and  when  she  at  last  ran  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  and  burst  in  at  the  glass  door 
she  was  in  a  frightful  state. 

Alice  started  up  and  faced  her  as  she  came  in, 
but  with  a  look  that  stopped  Ellen  short.  She 
stood  still ;  the  color  in  her  cheeks,  as  her  eyes 
read  Alice's,  faded  quite  away ;  words  and  the 
power  to  speak  them  were  gone  together.  Alas  ! 
the  need  to  utter  them  was  gone  too.  Alice  burst 
into  tears  and  held  out  her  arms,  saying  only,  "  My 
poor  child  !  "  Ellen  reached  her  arms,  and  strength 
and  spirit  seemed  to  fail  there.  Alice  thought 
she  had  fainted  ;  she  laid  her  on  the  sofa,  called 
Margery,  and  tried  the  usual  things,  weeping 
bitterly  herself  as  she  did  so.  It  was  not  fainting, 
however ;  Ellen's  senses  soon  came  back ;  but 
she  seemed   like  a   person   stunned   with-  a   great 


THE    WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  113 

blow,  and  Alice  wished  grief  had  had  any  other 
effect  upon  her.  It  lasted  for  days.  A  kind  of 
stupor  hung  over  her ;  tears  did  not  come  ;  the 
violent  strain  of  every  nerve  and  feeling  seemed  to 
have  left  her  benumbed.  She  would  sleep  long 
heavy  sleeps  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  and 
seemed  to  have  no  power  to  do  anything  else. 

Her  adopted  sister  watched  her  constantly,  and 
for  those  days  lived  but  to  watch  her.  She  had 
heard  all  Ellen's  story  from  Mary  Lawson  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt ;  who  had  both  been  to  the  parsonage, 
one  on  Mrs.  Lowndes'  part,  the  other  on  his  own, 
to  ask  about  her  ;  and  she  dreaded  that  a  violent 
fit  of  illness  might  be  brought  on  by  all  Ellen  had 
undergone.  She  was  mistaken,  however.  Ellen 
was  not  ill ;  but  her  whole  mind  and  body  bowed 
under  the  weight  of  the  blow  that  had  come  upon 
her.  As  the  first  stupor  wore  off  there  were,  in- 
deed, more  lively  signs  of  grief ;  she  would  weep 
till  she  wept  her  eyes  out,  and  that  often,  but  it  was 
very  quietly  ;  no  passionate  sobbing,  no  noisy  cry- 
ing ;  sorrow  had  taken  too  strong  hold  to  be  strug- 
gled with,  and  Ellen  meekly  bowed  her  head  to  it. 
Alice  saw  this  with  the  greatest  alarm.  She  had 
refused  to  let  her  go  back  to  her  aunt's  ;  it  was 
impossible  to  do  otherwise  ;  yet  it  may  be  that 
Ellen  would  have  been  better  there.  The  busy 
industry  to  which  she  would  have  been  forced  at 
home  might  have  roused  her ;  as  it  was,  nothing 
drew  her,  and  nothing  could  be  found  to  draw  her, 
from  her  own  thoughts.  Her  interest  in  everything 
seemed  to  be  gone.  Books  had  lost  their  charm. 
Walks  and  drives  and  staying  at  home  were  all 
one,  except  indeed  that  she  rather  liked  best  the 
8 


114  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

latter.  Appetite  failed  ;  her  cheeks  grew  colorless , 
and  Alice  began  to  fear  that  if  a  stop  were  not 
soon  put  to  this  gradual  sinking  it  would  at  last 
end  with  her  life.  But  all  her  efforts  were  without 
fruit ;  and  the  winter  was  a  sorrowful  one  not  to 
Ellen  alone. 

As  it  wore  on,  there  came  to  be  one  thing  in 
which  Ellen  again  took  pleasure,  and  that  was  her 
Bible.  She  used  to  get  alone  or  into  a  corner  with 
it,  and  turn  the  leaves  over  and  over ;  looking  out 
its  gentle  promises  and  sweet  comforting  words  to 
the  weak  and  the  sorrowing.  She  loved  to  read 
about  Christ, — all  He  said  and  did;  all  his  kindness 
to  his  people  and  tender  care  of  them  ;  the  love 
shown  them  here  and  the  joys  prepared  for  them 
hereafter.  She  began  to  cling  more  to  that  one 
unchangeable  Friend  from  whose  love  neither  life 
nor  death  can  sever  those  that  believe  in  him  ; 
and  her  heart,  tossed  and  shaken  as  it  had  been, 
began  to  take  rest  again  in  that  happy  resting-place 
with  stronger  affection  and  even  with  greater  joy 
than  ever  before.  Yet  for  all  that,  this  joy  often 
kept  company  with  bitter  weeping ;  the  stirring  of 
anything  like  pleasure  roused  sorrow  up  afresh  ; 
and  though  Ellen's  look  of  sadness  grew  less  dark, 
Alice  could  not  see  that  her  face  was  at  all  less 
white  and  thin.  She  never  spoke  of  her  mother, 
after  once  hearing  when  and  where  she  had  died  ; 
she  never  hinted  at  her  loss,  except  exclaiming  in 
an  agony,  "  I  shall  get  no  more  letters  !  "  and 
Alice  dared  not  touch  upon  what  the  child  seemed 
to  avoid  so  carefully  ;  though  Ellen  sometimes  wept 
on  her  bosom,  and  often  sat  for  hours  still  and 
silent  with  her  head  in  her  lap. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  115 

The  time  drew  nigh  when  John  was  expected 
home  for  the  holidays.  In  the  meanwhile  they 
had  had  many  visits  from  other  friends.  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  had  come  several  times,  enough  to  set  the 
whole  neighborhood  a  wondering  if  they  had  only 
known  it ;  his  good  old  mother  oftener  still.  Mrs. 
Vawse  as  often  as  possible.  Miss  Fortune  once  ; 
and  that  because,  as  she  said  to  herself,  "  every- 
body would  be  talking  about  what  was  none  of 
their  business  if  she  didn't."  As  neither  she  nor 
Ellen  knew  in  the  least  what  to  say  to  each  other, 
the  visit  was  rather  a  dull  one,  spite  of  all  Alice 
could  do.  Jenny  Hitchcock  and  the  Huffs  and  the 
Dennisons,  and  others,  came  now  and  then  ;  but 
Ellen  did  not  like  to  see  any  of  them,  all  but  Mrs. 
Vawse.     Alice  longed  for  her  brother. 

He  came  at  last,  just  before  New  Year's.  It  was 
the  middle  of  a  fine  afternoon,  and  Alice  and  her 
father  had  gone  in  the  sleigh  to  Carra-carra.  Ellen 
had  chosen  to  stay  behind,  but  Margery  did  not 
know  this,  and  of  course  did  not  tell  John.  After 
paying  a  visit  to  her  in  the  kitchen  he  had  come 
back  to  the  empty  sitting-room,  and  was  thought- 
fully walking  up  and  down  the  floor,  when  the  door 
of  Alice's  room  slowly  opened,  and  Ellen  appeared. 
It  was  never  her  way,  when  she  could  help  it,  to 
show  violent  feeling  before  other  people  ;  so  she 
had  been  trying  to  steel  herself  to  meet  John  with- 
out crying,  and  now  came  in  with  her  little  grave 
face  prepared  not  to  give  way.  His  first  look  had 
like  to  overset  it  all. 

"  Ellie  !  "  said  he  3 — "  I  thought  everybody  was 
gone.     My  dear  Ellie  ! " 

Ellen  could  hardly  stand  the  tone  of  these  three 


Ii6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

words,  and  she  bore  with  the  greatest  difficulty  the 
kiss  that  followed  them ;  it  took  but  a  word  or  two 
more,  and  a  glance  at  the  old  look  and  smile,  to 
break  down  entirely  all  her  guard.  According  to 
her  usual  fashion  she  was  rushing  away ;  but  John 
held  her  fast,  and,  though  gently,  drew  her  close  to 
him. 

"  I  will  not  let  you  forget  that  I  am  your  brother, 
Ellie,"  said  he. 

Ellen  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  and  cried  as 
if  she  had  never  cried  before. 

"  Ellie,"  said  he,  after  a  while,  speaking  low  and 
tenderly,  "  the  Bible  says,  '  We  have  known  and 
believed  the  love  that  God  hath  toward  us  ; ' — have 
you  remembered  and  believed  this  lately  ?  " 

Ellen  did  not  answer. 

"  Have  you  remembered  that  God  loves  every 
sinner  that  has  believed  in  His  dear  Son  ? — and 
loves  them  so  well  that  He  will  let  nothing  come 
near  them  to  harm  them  ? — and  loves  them  never 
better  than  when  He  sends  bitter  trouble  on  them  ? 
It  is  wonderful  !  but  it  is  true.  Have  you  thought 
of  this,  Ellie  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  is  not  in  anger  He  does  it ; — it  is  not  that 
He  has  forgotten  you  ; — it  is  not  that  He  is  careless 
of  your  trembling  little  heart, — never,  never  !  If 
you  are  His  child,  all  is  done  in  love  and  shall 
work  good  for  you  ;  and  if  we  often  cannot  see  how, 
it  is  because  we  are  weak  and  foolish,  and  can  see 
but  a  very  little  way." 

Ellen  listened,  with  her  face  hid  on  his  shoulder 

"  Do  you  love  Christ,  Ellen  ?  " 

She  nodded,  weeping  afresh. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  117 

"  Do  you  love  Him  less  since  He  has  brought 
you  into  this  great  sorrow  ?  " 

"  No,"  sobbed  Ellen  ;— "  more." 

He  drew  her  closer  to  his  breast,  and  was  silent 
a  little  while. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  that ! — then  all 
will  be  well.  And  haven't  you  the  best  reason  to 
think  that  all  is  well  with  your  dear  mother  ?  " 

Ellen  almost  shrieked.  Her  mother's  name  had 
not  been  spoken  before  her  in  a  great  while,  and 
she  could  hardly  bear  to  hear  it  now.  Her  whole 
frame  quivered  with  hysterical  sobs. 

"  Hush,  Ellie  !  "  said  John,  in  a  tone  that,  low  as 
it  was,  somehow  found  its  way  through  all  her 
agitation,  and  calmed  her  like  a  spell ; — "  have  you 
not  good  reason  to  believe  that  all  is  well  with  her  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !— oh,  yes  !  " 

"  She  loved  and  trusted  Him  too  ;  and  now  she 
is  with  Him — she  has  reached  that  bright  home 
where  there  is  no  more  sin,  nor  sorrow,  nor  death." 

"  Nor  parting,  either,"  sobbed  Ellen,  whose 
agitation  was  excessive. 

"  Nor  parting  ! — and  though  we  are  parted  from 
them,  it  is  but  for  a  little  ;  let  us  watch  and  keep- 
our  garments  clean,  and  soon  we  shall  be  all  to- 
gether, and  have  done  with  tears  forever.  She  has 
done  with  them  now. — Did  you  hear  from  her 
again  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  ! — not  a  word  !  " 

"  That  is  a  hard  trial. — But  in  it  all,  believe,  dear 
Ellie,  the  love  that  God  hath  toward  us  ; — remember 
that  our  dear  Saviour  is  near  us,  and  feels  for  us,, 
and  is  the  same  at  all  times. — And  don't  cry  sor 
Ellie." 


Il8  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

He  kissed  her  once  or  twice,  and  begged  her  to 
calm  herself.  For  it  seemed  as  if  Ellen's"  very 
heart  was  flowing  away  in  her  tears  ;  yet  they  were 
gentler  and  softer  far  than  at  the  beginning.  The 
conversation  had  been  a  great  relief.  The  silence 
between  her  and  Alice  on  the  thing  always  in  her 
mind,  a  silence  neither  of  them  dared  to  break,  had 
grown  painful.  The  spell  was  taken  off ;  and 
though,  at  first,  Ellen's  tears  knew  no  measure,  she 
was  easier  even  then ;  as  John  soothed  her  and 
went  on  with  his  kind  talk,  gradually  leading  it 
away  from  their  first  subject  to  other  things,  she 
grew  not  only  calm  but  more  peaceful  at  heart  than 
months  had  seen  her.  She  was  quite  herself  again 
fbefore  Alice  came  home. 

"  You  have  done  her  good  already,"  exclaimed 
Alice,  as  soon  as  Ellen  was  out  of  the  room  ; — "  I 
knew  you  would ;  I  saw  it  in  her  face  as  soon  as  I 
came  in." 

"  It  is  time,"  said  her  brother.  "  She  is  a  dear 
little  thing ! " 

The  next  day,  in  the  middle  of  the  morning, 
Ellen,  to  her  great  surprise,  saw  Sharp  brought  be- 
fore the  door  with  the  side-saddle  on,  and  Mr. 
John  carefully  looking  to  the  girth  and  shortening 
the  stirrup. 

"  Why,  Alice,"  she  exclaimed. — "  what  is  Mr. 
John  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Ellie,  I  am  sure  ;  he  does  queer 
things  sometimes.     What  makes  you  ask  ?  " 

Before  she  could   answer   he    opened  the   door. 

"  Come,  Ellen — go  and  get  ready.  Bundle  up 
well,  for  it  is  rather  frosty.  Alice,  has  she  a  pair 
of   gloves    that    are     warm    enough  ?      Lend    her 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  RID.  119, 

yours,   and   I'll   see  if  I  can   rind   some  at  Thirl- 
walL" 

Ellen  thought  she  would  rather  not  go  ;  to  any- 
body else  she  would  have  said  so.  Half  a  minute 
she  stood  still — then  went  to  put  on  her  things. 

"  Alice,  will  you  be  ready  by  the  time  we  get- 
back  ? — in  half  an  hour." 

Ellen  had  an  excellent  lesson,  and  her  master 
took  care  it  should  not  be  an  easy  one.  She  cams 
back  looking  as  she  had  not  done  all  winter. 
Alice  was  not  quite  ready ;  while  waiting  for  hei 
John  went  to  the  bookcase  and  took  down  the  first 
volume  of  "  Rollin's  Ancient  History  ;  "  and  giving 
it  to  Ellen,  said  he  would  talk  with  her  to-morrow 
about  the  first  twenty  pages.  The  consequence, 
was,  the  hour  and  a  half  of  their  absence,  instead 
of  being  moped  away,  was  spent  in  hard  study.  A 
pair  of  gloves  was  bought  at  Thirlwall;  Jenny 
Hitchcock's  pony  was  sent  for ;  and  after  that,, 
every  day,  when  the  weather  would  at  all  do,  they 
took  a  long  ride.  By  degrees  riding  and  drawing: 
and  all  her  studies  were  added  to  the  history,  till 
Ellen's  time  was  well  filled  with  business  again. 
Alice  had  endeavored  to  bring  this  about  before,. 
6ut  fruitlessly.  What  she  asked  of  her  Ellen  in- 
deed tried  to  do  ;  what  John  told  her  was  done. 
She  grew  a  different  creature.  Appetite  came 
back  ;  the  color  sprang  again  to  her  cheek ;  hope, 
— meek  and  sober  as  it  was, — relighted  her  eye^ 
In  her  eagerness  to  please  and  satisfy  her  teacher,, 
her  whole  soul  was  given  to  the  performance  of 
whatever  he  wished  her  to  do.  The  effect  was  all 
that  he  looked  for. 

The  second  evening  after  he  came  John  called 


izo  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  to  his  side,  saying  he  had  something  he 
wanted  to  read  to  her.  It  was  before  candles  were 
brought,  but  the  room  was  full  of  light  from  the 
blazing  wood  fire.  Ellen  glanced  at  his  book  as 
she  came  to  the  sofa  ;  it  was  a  largish  volume  in  a 
black  leather  cover,  a  good  deal  worn  ;  it  did  not 
look  at  all  interesting. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  called,"  said  John,  "  'The  Pilgrim's  Progress 
from  this  World  to  a  better.'  " 

Ellen  thought  it  did  not  sound  at  all  interesting. 
She  had  never  been  more  mistaken  in  her  life,  and 
that  she  found  almost  as  soon  as  he  begun.  Her 
attention  was  nailed  ;  the  listless,  careless  mood  in 
which  she  sat  down  was  changed  for  one  of  rapt 
delight ;  she  devoured  every  word  that  fell  from 
the  reader's  lips ;  indeed  they  were  given  their 
fullest  effect  by  a  very  fine  voice  and  singularly 
fine  reading.  Whenever  anything  might  not  be 
quite  clear  to  Ellen,  John  stopped  to  make  it  so  ; 
and  with  his  help,  and  without  it,  many  a  lesson 
went  home.  Next  day  she  looked  a  long  time  for 
the  book  ;  it  could  not  be  found ;  she  was  forced 
to  wait  until  evening.  Then,  to  her  great  joy,  it 
was  brought  out  again,  and  John  asked  if  she 
wished  to  hear  some  more  of  it.  After  that,  every 
evening  while  he  was  at  home  they  spent  an  hour 
with  the  "  Pilgrim."  Alice  would  leave  her  work 
and  come  to  the  sofa  too  ;  and  with  her  head  on 
her  brother's  shoulder,  her  hand  in  his,  and  Ellen's 
face  leaning  against  his  other  arm,  that  was  the  com- 
mon way  they  placed  themselves  to  read  and  hear. 
No  words  can  tell  Ellen's  enjoyment  of  those  read- 
ings.    They  made  her  sometimes  laugh  and  some- 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  121 

times  cry ;  they  had  much  to  do  in  carrying  on  the 
cure  which  John's  wisdom  and  kindness  had 
begun. 

They  came  to  the  place  where  Christian  loses 
his  burden  at  the  cross ;  and  as  he  stood  looking 
and  weeping,  three  shining  ones  came  to  him. 
The  first  said  to  him,  "  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;  " 
the  second  stripped  him  of  his  rags  and  clothed 
him  with  a  change  of  raiment ;  the  third  also  set  a 
mark  on  his  forehead. 

John  explained  what  was  meant  by  the  rags  and 
the  change  of  raiment. 

"  And  the  mark  in  his  forehead  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  That  is  the  mark  of  God's  children — the  change 
wrought  in  them  by  the  Holy  Spirit, — the  change 
that  makes  them  different  from  others,  and  different 
from  their  old  selves." 

"  Do  all  Christians  have  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  None  can  be  a  Christian  without 
it." 

"  But  how  can  one  tell  whether  one  has  it  or  no  ?  " 
said  Ellen,  very  gravely. 

0  Carry  your  heart  and  life  to  the  Bible  and  see 
how  they  agree.  The  Bible  gives  a  great  many 
signs  and  descriptions  by  which  Christians  may 
know  themselves, — know  both  what  they  are  and 
what  they  ought  to  be.  If  you  find  your  own  feel- 
ings and  manner  of  life  at  one  with  these  Bible 
words,  you  may  hope  that  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
changed  you  and  set  His  mark  upon  you." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  of  one  of  those  places," 
said  Ellen. 

^  "The  Bible  is  full  of  them.     '  To  them  that  be- 
lieve Christ  is  precious,' — there  is  one.     '  If  ye  love 


122  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Me,  keep  My  commandments ; ' — l  He  that  saith  he* 
•abideth  in  Him  ought  himself  also  so  to  walk  even  as 
Me  walked;' — 'Oh,  how  love  I  Thy  law'  The 
Bible  is  full  of  them,  Ellie ;  but  you  have  need  to 
ask  for  great  help  when  you  go  to  try  yourself  by 
them  ;  the  heart  is  deceitful." 

Ellen  looked  sober  all  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
and  the  next  day  she  pondered  the  matter  a  good 
deal. 

"  I  think  I  am  changed,"  she  said  to  herself  at 
last.  "  I  didn't  use  to  like  to  read  the  Bible.,  and 
now  I  do  very  much  ; — I  never  liked  praying  in  old 
times,  and  now,  oh,  what  should  I  do  without  it ! 
— I  didn't  love  Jesus  at  all,  but  I  am  sure  I  do 
now.  I  don't  keep  His  commandments,  but  I  do 
try  to  keep  them  ; — I  must  be  changed  a  little.  Oh, 
I  wish  mamma  had  known  it  before " 

Weeping  with  mixed  sorrow  and  thankful  joy, 
Ellen  bent  her  head  upon  her  little  Bible  to  pray 
that  she  might  be  more  changed ;  and  then,  as  she 
often  did,  raised  the  cover  to  look  at  the  texts  in 
the  beloved  handwriting. 

"  I  love  them  that  love  Me,  and  they  that  seek 
Me  early  shall  find  Me." 

Ellen's  tears  were  blinding  her.  "  That  has  come 
true,"  she  thought. 

"  I  will  be  a  God  to  thee  and  to  thy  seed  after 
thee." 

"  That  has  come  true  too  !  "  she  said,  almost  in 
surprise, — "  and  mamma  believed  it  would." — And 
then,  as  by  a  flash,  came  back  to  her  mind  the 
time  it  was  written  ;  she  remembered  how  when  it 
was  done  her  mother's  head  had  sunk  upon  the 
'open  page  ;  she  seemed  to  see  again  the  thin  fingers 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  123 

tightly  clasped  ; — she  had  not  understood  it  then  ; 
she  did  now  !  "  She  v7as  praying  for  me,"  thought 
Ellen, — "  she  was  praying  for  me  !  she  believed 
that  would  come  true." 

The  book  was  dashed  down,  and  Ellen  fell  upon- 
her  knees  in  a  perfect  agony  of  weeping. 

Even  this,  when  she  was  calm  again,  served  to- 
steady  her  mind.  There  seemed  to  be  a  link  of  com- 
munion between  her  mother  and  her  that  was  want- 
ing before.  The  promise,  written  and  believed  in 
by  the  one,  realized  and  rejoiced  in  by  the  other, 
was  a  dear  something  in  common,  though  one  had 
in  the  meanwhile  removed  to  heaven,  and  the  other 
was  still  a  lingerer  on  the  earth.  Ellen  bound  the: 
words  upon  her  heart. 

Another  time,  when  they  came  to  the  last  scene 
of  Christian's  journey,  Ellen's  tears  ran  very  fast. 
John  asked  if  he  should  pass  it  over  ?  if  it  distressed 
her  ?  She  said,  oh,  no,  it  did  not  distress  her  ? 
she  wanted  him  to  go  on  ; — and  he  went  on,  though 
himself  much  distressed,  and  Alice  was  nearly  as. 
bad  as  Ellen.  But  the  next  evening,  to  his  sur- 
prise, Ellen  begged  that  before  he  went  on  to  the 
second  part  he  would  read  that  piece  over  again. 
And  when  he  lent  her  the  book,  with  only  the 
charge  that  she  should  not  go  further  than  he  had 
been,  she  pored  over  that  scene  with  untiring 
pleasure  till  she  almost  had  it  by  heart.  In  short, 
never  was  a  child  more  comforted  and  contented 
with  a  book  than  Ellen  was  with  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress."  That  was  a  blessed  visit  of  John's. 
Alice  said  he  had  come  like  a  sunbeam  into  the 
house  ;  she  dreaded  to  think  what  would  be  when 
he  went  away. 


124  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

She  wrote  him,  however,  when  he  had  been  gone 
a  few  weeks  that  his  will  seemed  to  carry  all  before 
it,  present  or  absent.  Ellen  went  on  steadily  mend- 
ing ;  at  least  she  did  not  go  back  any.  They  were 
keeping  up  their  rides,  also  their  studies,  most  dili- 
gently ;  Ellen  was  untiring  in  her  efforts  to  do  what- 
ever he  had  wished  her,  and  was  springing  forward, 
Alice  said,  in  her  improvement. 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

I  keep  his  house,  and  I  wash,  wring,  brew,  bake,  scour,  dress  meat,  and 
make  beds,  and  do  all  myself. — Shakspeare. 

The  spring  had  come  ;  and  Alice  and  Ellen  were 
looking  forward  to  pleasanter  rides  and  walks  after 
the  sun  should  have  got  a  little  warmth  and  the 
snow  should  be  gone  ;  when  one  morning  in  the 
early  part  of  March  Mr.  Van  Brunt  made  his  ap- 
pearance. Miss  Fortune  was  not  well,  and  had 
sent  him  to  beg  that  Ellen  would  come  back  to  her. 
He  was  sorry,  he  said  ; — he  knew  Ellen  was  in  the 
best  place;  but  her  aunt  wanted  her,  and  "he 
s'posed  she'd  have  to  go."  He  did  not  know  what 
was  the  matter  with  Miss  Fortune ;  it  was  a  little 
of  one  thing  and  a  little  of  another  ;  "  he  s'posed 
she'd  overdid,  and  it  was  a  wonder  for  he  didn't 
know  she  could  do  it.  She  thought  she  was  as 
tough  as  a  piece  of  shoe-leather,  but  even  that  could 
be  wore  out." 

Ellen  looked  blank.  However,  she  hurriedly  set 
herself  to  get  her  things  together,  and  with  Alice's 
help  in  half  an  hour  she  was  ready  to  go.  The 
parting  was  hard.  They  held  each  other  fast  a 
good  while,  and  kissed  each  other  many  times  with- 
out speaking. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  125 

"Good-bye,  dear  Ellie,"  whispered  Alice  at  last, 
— "  I'll  come  and  see  you  soon.  Remember  what 
John  said  when  he  went  away." 

Ellen  did  not  trust  herself  to  speak.  She  pulled 
herself  away  from  Alice,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  saying  by  her  manner  that  she  was  ready; 
he  took  her  bundle  and  they  went  out  of  the  house 
together. 

Ellen  made  a  manful  effort  all  the  way  down  the 
hill  to  stifle  the  tears  that  were  choking  her.  She 
knew  they  would  greatly  disturb  her  companion, 
and  she  did  succeed,  though  with  great  difficulty, 
in  keeping  them  back.  Luckily  for  her,  he  said 
hardly  anything  during  the  whole  walk  ;  she  could 
not  have  borne  to  answer  a  question.  It  was  no 
fault  of  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  that  he  was  so  silent ;  he 
was  beating  his  brains  the  whole  way  to  think  of 
something  it  would  do  to  say,  and  could  not  suit 
himself.  His  single  remark  was,  "  that  it  was  like  to 
be  a  fine  spring  for  the  maple,  and  he  guessed 
they'd  make  a  heap  of  sugar." 

When  they  reached  the  door  he  told  her  she  would 
find  her  aunt  upstairs,  and  himself  turned  off  to  the 
barn.  Ellen  stopped  a  minute  upon  the  threshold  to 
remember  the  last  time  she  had  crossed  it, — and 
the  first  time  ;  how  changed  everything  now  ! — and 
the  thought  came,  was  this  now  to  be  her  home  for- 
ever? She  had  need  again  to  remember  John's 
words.  When  bidding  her  good-bye  he  had  said, 
"  My  little  pilgrim,  I  hope  you  will  keep  the  straight 
road,  and  win  the  praise  of  the  servant  who  was 
faithful  over  a  few  things."  "  I  will  try  !  "  thought 
poor  Ellen ;  and  then  she  passed  through  the 
kitchen  and  went  up  to  her  own  room.     Here,  with* 


126  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

out  stopping  to  think,  she  took  off  her  things,  gave 
one  strange  look  at  the  old  familiar  place  and  her 
trunk  in  the  corner,  fell  on  her  knees  for  one  minute, 
and  then  went  to  her  aunt's  room. 

"  Come  in  !  "  cried  Miss  Fortune  when  Ellen  had 
knocked.  "Well,  Ellen,  there  you  are.  I  am 
thankful  it  is  you ;  I  was  afraid  it  might  be  Mirny 
Lawson  or  Sarah  Lowndes,  or  some  of  the  rest  of 
the  set ;  I  know  they'll  all  come  scampering  here 
as  soon  as  they  hear  I'm  laid  up." 

"  Are  you  very  sick,  Aunt  Fortune  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  La  !  no,  child  ;  I  shall  be  up  again  to-morrow  ; 
but  I  felt  queer  this  morning,  somehow,  and  I 
thought  I'd  try  lying  down.  I  expect  I've  caught 
some  cold." 

There  was  no  doubt  of  this,  but  this  was  not  all. 
Besides  catching  cold,  and  doing  her  best  to  bring 
it  about,  Miss  Fortune  had  overtasked  her  strength  ; 
and  by  dint  of  economy,  housewifery,  and  s?nart- 
ness,  had  brought  on  herself  the  severe  punishment 
of  lying  idle  and  helpless  for  a  much  longer  time 
than  she  at  first  reckoned  on. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Aunt  Fortune?  "  said 
Ellen. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  as  I  know,"  said  Miss  Fortune, — 
"only  let  me  alone  and  don't  ask  me  anything, and 
keep  people  out  of  the  house.  Mercy  !  my  head 
feels  as  if  it  would  go  crazy  !  Ellen,  look  here."  said 
she,  raising  herself  on  her  elbow, — "  I  won't  have 
anybody  come  into  this  house, — if  I  lie  here  till 
doomsday,  I  won't !  Now,  you  mind  me.  I  ain't 
a  going  to  have  Mirny  Lawson,  nor  nobody  else, 
poking  all  round  into  every  hole  and  corner,  and 
turning  every  cheese    upside  down  to    see  what's 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  127 

under  it.  There  ain't  one  of  'em  too  good  for  it, 
and  they  sha'n't  have  a  chance.  They'll  be  streak- 
ing here,  a  dozen  of  'em,  to  help  take  care  of  the 
house  ;  but  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  the  house 
— I  won't  have  anybody  in  it.  Promise  me  you 
won't  let  Mr.  Van  Brunt  bring  any  one  here  to  help  ; 
I  know  I  can  trust  you  to  do  what  I  tell  you  ; 
promise  me  !  " 

Ellen  promised,  a  good  deal,  gratified  at  her  aunt's 
last  words,  and  once  more  asked  if  she  could  do 
anything  for  her.  • 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune,  flinging 
herself  back  on  her  pillow  ; — "  I  don't  care  what 
you  do,  if  you  only  keep  the  house  clear.  There's 
the  clothes  in  the  basket  under  the  table  down- 
stairs— you  might  begin  to  iron  'em  ;  they're  only 
rough  dry.  But  don't  come  asking  me  about  any- 
thing ;  I  can't  bear  it — Ellen,  don't  let  a  soul  go 
into  the  buttery  except  yourself. — And,  Ellen  !  I 
don't  care  if  you  make  me  a  little  catnip  tea  ; — the 
catnip  's  up  in  the  store-room, — the  furthest  door 
in  the  back  attic — here's  the  keys.  Don't  go  to 
fussing  with  anything  else  there." 

Ellen  thought  the  prospect  before  her  rather  dole- 
ful when  she  reached  the  kitchen.  It  was  in  order, 
to  be  sure,  and  clean  ;  but  it  looked  as  if  the  mis- 
tress was  away.  The  fire  had  gone  out,  the  room 
was  cold ;  even  so  little  a  matter  as  catnip  tea 
seemed  a  thing  far  off  and  hard  to  come  by.  While 
she  stood  looking  at  the  great  logs  in  the  fire- 
place, which  she  could  hardly  move,  and  thinking 
it  was  rather  a  dismal  state  of  things,  in  came  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  with  his  good-natured  face,  and  wanted 
to  know  if  he  could  do  anything  for  her.     The  very 


128  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

room  seemed  more  comfortable  as  soon  as  his  big 
figure  was  in  it.  He  set  about  kindling  the  fire 
forthwith,  while  Ellen  went  up  to  the  store-room. 
A  well-filled  store-room !  Among  other  things, 
there  hung  at  least  a  dozen  bunches  of  dried  herbs 
from  one  of  the  rafters.  Ellen  thought  she  knew 
catnip,  but  after  smelling  of  two  or  three  she  be- 
came utterly  puzzled  and  was  fain  to  carry  a 
leaf  of  several  kinds  down  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  find 
out  which  was  which.  When  she  canie  down  again 
she  found  he  had-  hung  on  the  kettle  for  her,  and 
swept  up  the  hearth  ;  so  Ellen,  wisely  thinking  it 
best  to  keep  busy,  put  the  ironing  blanket  on  the 
table,  and  folded  the  clothes,  and  set  the  irons  to 
the  fire.  By  this  time  the  kettle  boiled.  How  to 
make  catnip  tea  Ellen  did  not  exactly  know,  but 
supposed  it  must  follow  the  same  rules  as  black  tea, 
in  the  making  of  which  she  felt  herself  very  much 
at  home.  So  she  put  a  pinch  or  two  of  catnip  leaves 
into  the  pot,  poured  a  little  water  on  them,  and  left 
it  to  draw.  Meanwhile  came  in  kind  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  with  an  armful  or  two  of  small  short  sticks 
for  the  fire,  which  Ellen  could  manage. 

"  I  wish  I  could  stay  here  and  take  care  of  you 
all  the  while,"  said  he  ;  "but  I'll  be  round.  If  you 
want  anything  you  must  come  to  the  door  and 
holler." 

Ellen  began  to  thank  him. 

"Just  don't  say  anything  about  that,"  said  he, 
moving  his  hands  as  if  he  were  shaking  her  thanks 
out  of  them  ;  "  I'd  back  all  the  wood  you  could 
burn  every  day  for  the  pleasure  of  having  you  hum 
again,  if  I  didn't  know  you  was  better  where  you  was  ; 
but   I  can't  help  that.     Now,  who  am  I  going  t« 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  129 

get  to  stay  with  you?  Who  would  you  like  to 
have  ?  " 

u  Nobody,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said 
Elien  ;  "  Aunt  Fortune  don't  wish  it,  and  I  had 
rather  not,  indeed." 

He  stood  up  and  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  are  thinking,  or  she  is  thinking,  you  can  get 
along  here  alone  without  help  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  along  somehow,"  said  Ellen.  "  Never 
mind,  please  let  me,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  it  would  worry 
Aunt  Fortune  very  much  to  have  anybody  ;  don't 
say  anything  about  it." 

"  Worry  her  ! "  said  he  ;  and  he  muttered  some- 
thing Ellen  did  not  quite  understand,  about  "  bring- 
ing the  old  woman  to  reason." 

However,  he  went  off  for  the  present ;  and  Ellen 
filled  up  her  tea-pot  and  carried  it  upstairs.  Her 
old  grandmother  was  awake ;  before,  when  Ellen 
was  in  the  room,  she  had  been  napping;  now  she 
showed  the  greatest  delight  at  seeing  her  \  fondled 
her,  kissed,  cried  over  her,  and  finally  insisted  on 
getting  up  directly  and  going  downstairs.  Ellen  re- 
ceived and  returned  her  caresses  with  great  tender- 
ness, and  then  began  to  help  her  to  rise  and  dress. 

"Yes,  do,"  said  Miss  Fortune;  "  I  shall  have  a 
little  better  chance  of  sleeping.  My  stars  !  Ellen, 
what  do  you  call  this?  " 

"  Isn't  it  catnip  ?  "  said  Ellen,  alarmed. 

"  Catnip  !  it  tastes  of  nothing  but  the  tea-kettle. 
It's  as  weak  as  dish  water.  Take  it  down  and 
make  some  more.  How  much  did  you  put  in? 
you  want  a  good  double-handful  stalks  and  all; 
make  it   strong.     I  can't  drink  such  stuff  as  that. 


130  THE   WIDE.  WIDE   WORLD. 

I  think  if  I  could  get  into  a  sweat  I  should  be 
better." 

Ellen  went  down,  established  her  grandmother  in 
her  old  corner,  and  made  some  more  tea.  Then, 
her  irons  being  hot,  she  began  to  iron ;  doing 
double  duty  at  the  same  time,  for  Mrs.  Montgomery 
had  one  of  her  talking  fits  on,  and  it  was  necessary 
to  hear  and  answer  a  great  many  things.  Presently 
the  first  visitor  appeared  in  the  shape  of  Nancy. 

"  Well,  Ellen  !  "  said  she  ;  "  so  Miss  Fortune  is 
really  sick  for  once,  and  you  are  keeping  house. 
Ain't  you  grand  !  " 

"  I  don't  feel  very  grand,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  don't 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  these  clothes  ;  I  can- 
not make  'em  look  smooth." 

"  Irons  ain't  hot,"  said  Nancy. 

"Yes,  they  are,  too  hot.  I've  scorched  a  towel 
already." 

"  My  goodness,  Ellen  !  I  guess  you  have.  If 
Miss  Fortune  was  down  you'd  get  it.  Why,  they're 
bone  dry  !  "  said  Nancy,  plunging  her  hand  into 
the  basket ; — "  you  haven't  sprinkled  'em,  have 
you  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Ellen,  with  an  awakened  face, 
"  I  forgot  it ! '' 

"  Here,  get  out  of  the  way,  I'll  do  it  for  you," 
said  Nancy,  rolling  up  her  sleeves  and  pushing 
Ellen  from  the  table  ;  "you  just  get  me  a  bowl  of 
water,  will  you,  and  we'll  have  'em  done  in  no  time. 
Who's  a-coming  to  help  you  ?  " 

"Nobody." 

"  Nobody  ! — you  poor  chicken  ;  do  you  think 
you're  a-going  to  do  all  the  work  of  the  house  your 
self?" 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  131 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  "but  I  can  do  a  good  deal, 
and  the  rest  will  have  to  go." 

"  You  ain't  going  to  do  no  such  a  thing  ;  I'll  stay 
myself." 

"  No,  you  can't,  Nancy,"  said  Ellen,  quietly. 

"  I  guess  I  will  if  I've  a  mind  to.  I  should  like 
to  know  how  you'd  help  it ;    Miss  Fortune's  abed." 

"  I  could  help  it,  though,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  but  I  am 
sure  you  won't  when  I  ask  you  not." 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  please,"  said  Nancy,  "  if 
you'll  get  Miss  Fortune  to  let  me  stay.  Come,  do, 
Ellen  !  It  will  be  splendid ;  and  I'll  help  you 
finely,  and  I  won't  bother  you  neither.  Come  \ 
go  ask  her  ;   if  you  don't  I  will." 

"  I  can't,  Nancy  ;  she  don't  want  anybody ;  and 
it  worries  her  to  talk  to  her.  I  can't  go  and  ask 
her." 

Nancy  impatiently  flung  down  the  cloth  she  was 
sprinkling  and  ran  upstairs.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
came  down  with  a  triumphant  face  and  bade  Ellen 
go  up  to  her  aunt. 

"  Ellen,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  "  if  I  let  Nancy 
stay  will  you  take  care  of  the  keys,  and  keep  her 
out  of  the  buttery  ?  " 

"  I'll  try  to,  ma'am,  as  well  as  I  can." 

"  I'd  as  lief  have  her  as  anybody,"  said  Miss 
Fortune,  "  if  she'd  behave  ; — she  was  with  me  a 
little  in  the  winter ;  she  is  smart  and  knows  the 
ways  ; — if  I  was  sure  she  would  behave  herself,  but 
I  am  afraid  she  will  go  rampaging  about  the  house 
like  a  wild  cat." 

"  I  think  I  could  prevent  that,"  said  Ellen,  who 
to  say  truth  was  willing  to  have  anybody  come  *q 
share  what  she  felt  would  be  a  very  great  bur^ 


132  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  She  knows  I  could  tell  Mr.  Van  Brunt  if  she 
didn't  do  right,  and  she  would  be  afraid  of  that." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Fortune,  disconsolately,  "let 
her  stay,  then.  Oh  dear,  to  lie  here !  but  tell  her 
if  she  don't  do  just  what  you  tell  her  I'll  have  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  turn  her  out  by  the  ears.  And  don't 
let  her  come  near  me,  for  she  drives  me  made 
And,  Ellen,  put  the  keys  in  your  pocket.  Have 
you  got  a  pocket  in  that  dress?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Put  'em  in  there  and  don't  take  'em  out.     Now 

go." 

Nancy  agreed  to  the  conditions  with  great  glee ; 
and  the  little  housekeeper  felt  her  mind  a  good 
deal  easier ;  for  though  Nancy  herself  was  some- 
what of  a  charge,  she  was  strong  and  willing  and 
ready,  and,  if  she  liked  anybody,  liked  Ellen. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  privately  asked  Ellen  if  she  chose 
to  have  Nancy  stay ;  and  told  her,  if  she  gave  her 
any  trouble,  to  let  him  know  and  he  would  make 
short  work  with  her.  The  young  lady  herself  also 
had  a  hint  on  the  subject. 

''I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Nancy,  when  this 
business  was  settled, — "we'll  let  the  men  go  off  to 
Miss  Van  Brunt's  to  meals  ;  we'll  have  enough  to 
do  without  'em.  That's  how  Miss  Fortune  has 
fixed  herself, — she  would  have  Sam  and  Johnny  in 
to  board  ;  they  never  used  to,  you  know,  afore  this 
winter." 

"  The  men  may  go,"  said  Ellen,  "  but  I  had  a 
great  deal  rather  Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  stay  than 
not, — if  we  can  only  manage  to  cook  things  for 
him ;  we  should  have  to  do  it  at  any  rate  for  our- 
selves, and  for  grandma." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  133 

"Well,  I  ain't  as  fond  of  him  as  all  that,"  said 
Nancy, — "  but  it'll  have  to  be  as  you  like,  I  suppose. 
We'll  feed  him  somehow." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  ir  tc  ask  if  they  had  any- 
thing in  the  house  fo  su  per.  Ellen  told  him 
"  plenty,"  and  would  h^v^  him  come  in  just  as 
usual.  There  was  nothing  t  do  but  to  make  tea  ; 
cold  meat  and  bread  and  butter  and  cheese  were  all 
in  the  buttery ;  so  that  evening  went  off  very  quietly, 

When  she  came  down  the  next  morning  the  fire 
was  burning  nicely,  and  the  kettle  on  and  singing. 
Not  Nancy's  work ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  slept  in 
the  kitchen,  whether  on  the  table,  the  floor,  or  the 
chairs,  was  best  known  to  himself;  and  before 
going  to  his  work  had  left  everything  he  could 
think  of  ready  done  to  her  hand  ;  wood  for  the 
fire,  pails  of  water  brought  from  the  spout,  and 
some  matters  in  the  lower  kitchen  got  out  of  the 
way.  Ellen  stood  warming  herself  at  the  blaze, 
when  it  suddenly  darted  into  her  head  that  it  was 
milking  time.  In  another  minute  she  had  thrown 
open  the  door  and  was  running  across  the  chip- 
yard  to  the  barn.  There,  in  the  old  place,  were 
all  her  old  friends,  both  four-legged  and  two- 
legged  ;  and  with  great  delight  she  found  Dolly 
had  a  fine  calf  and  Streaky  another  superb  one, 
brindled  just  like  herself.  Ellen  longed  to  get 
near  enough  to  touch  their  little  innocent  heads, 
but  it  was  impossible ;  and  recollecting  the  busi- 
ness on  her  hands  she  too  danced  away. 

"  Whew !  "  said  Nancy,  when  Ellen  told  her  of 
the  new  inmates  of  the  barn-yard  ; — "  there'll  be 
work  to  do  !  Get  your  milk-pans  ready,  Eller.  ;— « 
in  a  couple  of  weeks  we'll  be  making  butter." 


134  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"Aunt  Fortune  will  be  well  by  that  time,  I 
hope,"  said  Ellen. 

"  She  won't,  then,  so  you  may  just  make  up 
your  mind  to  it.  Dr.  Gibson  was  to  see  her 
yesterday  forenoon,  and  he  stopped  at  Miss 
Lowndes'  on  his  way  back  ;  and  he  said  it  was  a 
chance  if  she  got  up  again  in  a  month  and  more. 
So  that's  what  it  is,  you  see." 

"  A  month  and  more."  It  was  all  that.  Miss 
Fortune  was  not  dangerously  ill ;  but  part  of  the  time 
in  a  low  nervous  fever,  part  of  the  time  encum- 
bered with  other  ailments,  she  lay  from  week  to 
week ;  bearing  her  confinement  as  ill  as  possible, 
and  making  it  as  disagreeable  and  burdensome 
as  possible  for  Ellen  to  attend  upon  her.  Those 
were  weeks  of  trial.  Ellen's  patience  and  prin- 
ciple and  temper  were  all  put  to  the  proof.  She 
had  no  love  in  the  first  place  for  household  work, 
and  now  her  whole  time  was  filled  up  with  it. 
Studies  could  not  be  thought  of.  Reading  was 
only  to  be  had  by  mere  snatches.  Walks  and  rides 
were  at  an  end.  Often  when  already  very  tired 
she  had  to  run  up  and  downstairs  for  her  aunt,  or 
stand  and  bathe  her  face  and  hands  with  vinegar, 
or  read  the  paper  to  her  when  Miss  Fortune 
declared  she  was  so  nervous  she  should  fly  out  of 
her  skin  if  she  didn't  hear  something  besides  the 
wind.  And  very  often  when  she  was  not  wanted 
upstairs,  her  old  grandmother  would  beg  her  to 
come  and  read  to  her, — perhaps  at  the  very  moment 
when  Ellen  was  busiest.  Ellen  did  her  best. 
Miss  Fortune  never  could  be  put  off ;  her  old 
mother  sometimes  could,  with  a  kiss  and  a  promise-, 
but  not  always ;  and  then,  rather  than  she  should 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  135 

fret,  Ellen  would  leave  everything  and  give  half  an 
hour  to  soothing  and  satisfying  her.  She  loved  to 
do  this  at  other  times ;  now  it  was  sometimes 
burdensome.  Nancy,  then,  could  not  help  her  at 
all  in  these  matters,  for  neither  Miss  Fortune  nor 
the  old  lady  would  let  her  come  near  them.  Be- 
sides all  this  there  was  a  measure  of  care  con- 
stantly upon  Ellen's  mind  ;  she  felt  charged  with 
the  welfare  of  all  about  the  house  ;  and  under  the 
effort  to  meet  the  charge,  joined  to  the  unceasing 
bodily  exertion,  she  grew  thin  and  pale.  She  was 
tired  with  Nancy's  talk  ;  she  longed  to  be  reading 
and  studying  again  ;  she  longed,  oh,  how  she 
longed  !  for  Alice's  and  John's  company  again  ; 
and  it  was  no  wonder  if  she  sometimes  cast  very 
sad,  longing  looks  further  back  still.  Now  and 
then  an  old  fit  of  weeping  would  come.  But  Ellen 
remembered  John's  words  ;  and  often  in  the  midst 
of  her  work,  stopping  short  with  a  sort  of  pang  of 
sorrow  and  weariness,  and  the  difficulty  of  doing 
right,  she  would  press  her  hands  together  and  say- 
to  herself,  "  I  will  try  to  be  a  good  pilgrim  !  "  Her 
morning  hour  of  prayer  was  very  precious  now ;  and 
her  Bible  grew  more  and  more  dear.  Little  Ellen 
found  its  words  a  mighty  refreshment ;  and  often 
when  reading  it  she  loved  to  recall  what  Alice  had 
said  at  this  and  the  other  place,  and  John,  and 
Mr.  Marshman,  and  before  them  her  mother.  The 
passages  about  heaven,  which  she  well  remem- 
bered reading  out  t^her  one  particular  morning, 
became  great  favorites  ;  they  were  joined  with  her 
mother  in  Ellen's  thoughts;  and  she  used  to  go 
over  and  over  them  till  she  nearly  knew  them  by 
heart. 


136  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  What  do  you  keep  reading  that  for,  the  whole 
time  ?  "  said  Nancy  one  day. 

"  Because  I  like  to,"  said  ElleL 

"  Well,  if  you  do,  you're  the  first  one  ever  I  saw 
that  did." 

"  Oh,  Nancy  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  your  grandma  !  " 

"  Well,  she  does,  I  believe,"  said  Nancy, — "  for 
she's  always  at  it ;  but  all  the  rest  of  the  folks  that 
ever  I  saw  are  happy  to  get  it  out  of  their  hands, 
I  know.  They  think  they  must  read  a  little  and 
so  they  do,  and  they  are  too  glad  if  something 
happens  to  break  'em  off.  You  needn't  tell  me; 
I've  seen  'em." 

"  I  wish  you  loved  it,  Nancy,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  love  it  for  ?  come,  let's 
hear  ;  maybe  you'll  convert  me." 

"  I  love  it  for  a  great  many  reasons,"  said  Ellen, 
who  had  some  difficulty  in  speaking  of  what  she 
felt  Nancy  could  not  understand. 

"  Well — I  ain't  any  wiser  yet." 

"  I  like  to  read  it  because  I  want  to  go  to 
heaven,  and  it  tells  me  how." 

"But  what's  the  use?"  said  Nancy; — "yo£ 
ain't  going  to  die  yet ;  you're  too  young  ;  you've 
time  enough." 

"  Oh,  Nancy  ! — little  John  Dolan,  and  Eleanor 
Parsons,  and  Mary  Huff, — all  younger  than  you 
and  I  ;  how  can  you  say  so  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  Nancy, — "  at  any  rate,  that  ain't 
reading  it  because  you  lo|fe  it; — it's  because  you 
must,  like  other  folks." 

"That's  only  one  of  my  reasons,"  said  Ellen, 
hesitating,  and  speaking  gravely  ; — "  I  like  to  read 
about  the  Saviour,  and  what  He  has  done  for  me, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  137 

and  what  a  friend  He  will  be  to  me,  and  how  He 
forgives  me.  I  had  rather  have  the  Bible,  Nancy, 
than  all  the  other  books  in  the  world." 

"  That  ain't  saying  much,"  said  Nancy  ; — "  but 
how  come  you  to  be  so  sure  you  are  forgiven  ? " 

"  Because  the  Bible  says,  '  He  that  believeth  on 
Him  shall  not  be  ashamed,'  and  I  believe  in  Him  ; 
— and  that  He  will  not  cast  out  any  one  that  comes 
to  Him,  and  I  have  come  to  Him  ; — and  that  He 
loves  those  that  love  Him,  and  I  love  Him.  If  it 
did  not  speak  so  very  plainly  I  should  be  afraid, 
but  it  makes  me  happy  to  read  such  verses  as 
these.  I  wish  you  knew,  Nancy,  how  happy  it 
makes  me." 

This  profession  of  faith  was  not  spoken  without 
starting  tears.     Nancy  made  no  reply. 

As  Miss  Fortune  had  foretold,  plenty  of  people 
came  to  the  house  with  proffers  of  service. 
Nancy's  being  there  made  it  easy  for  Ellen  to  get 
rid  of  them  all.  Many  were  the  marvels  that  Miss 
Fortune  should  trust  her  house  to  "  two  girls  like 
that,"  and  many  the  guesses  that  she  would 
rue  it  when  she  got  up  again.  People  were  wrong. 
Things  went  on  very  steadily  and  in  an  orderly 
manner  ;  and  Nancy  kept  the  peace  as  she  would 
have  done  in  few  houses.  Bold  and  insolent  as 
she  sometimes  was  to  others,  she  regarded  Ellen 
with  a  mixed  notion  of  respect  and  protection, 
which  led  her  at  once  to  shun  doing  anything 
that  would  grieve  her,  and  to  thrust  her  aside  from 
every  heavy  or  difficult  job,  taking  the  brunt  her- 
self. Nancy  might  well  do  this,  for  she  was  at 
least  twice  as  strong  as  Ellen ;  but  she  would  not 
have  done  it  for  everybody. 


138  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

There  were  visits  of  kindness  as  well  as  visits 
of  officiousness.  Alice  and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  and 
Margery,  one  or  the  other  every  day.  Margery 
would  come  in  and  mix  up  a  batch  of  bread  ; 
Alice  would  bring  a  bowl  of  butter,  or  a  basket  of 
cake  ;  and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  sent  whole  dinners. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  there  always  at  night,  and 
about  the  place  as  much  as  possible  during  the 
day ;  when  obliged  to  be  absent,  he  stationed  Sam 
Larkens  to  guard  the  house,  also  to  bring  wood  and 
water  and  do  whatever  he  was  bid.  All  the  help, 
however,  that  was  given  from  abroad  could  not 
make  Ellen's  life  an  easy  one  ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
wishes  that  Miss  Fortune  would  get  up  again  began 
to  come  very  often.  The  history  of  one  day  may 
serve  for  the  history  of  all  those  weeks. 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  April.  Ellen  came 
downstairs  early,  but  come  when  she  would  she 
found  the  fire  made  and  the  kettle  on.  Ellen  felt 
a  little  as  if  she  had  not  quite  slept  off  the  remem- 
brance of  yesterday's  fatigue  ;  however,  that  was 
no  matter  ;  she  set  to  work.  She  swept  up  the 
kitchen,  got  her  milk  strainer  and  pans  ready  upon 
the  buttery  shelf,  and  began  to  set  the  table.  By 
the  time  this  was  half  done,  in  came  Sam  Larkens 
with  two  great  pails  of  milk,  and  Johnny  Low 
followed  with  another.  They  were  much  too 
heavy  for  Ellen  to  lift,  but  true  to  her  charge  she 
iet  no  one  come  into  the  buttery  but  herself;  she 
brought  the  pans  to  the  door,  where  Sam  filled 
them  for  her,  and  as  each  was  done  she  set  it  in  its 
place  on  the  shelf.  This  took  some  time  for  there 
were  eight  of  them.  She  had  scarce  wiped  up  the 
spilt  milk  and  finished  setting  the  table  when  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  came  in. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  139 

"  Good  morning  ! ?"  said  he.  "  How  d'ye  do  to- 
day?" 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

"  I  wish  you'd  look  a  little  redder  in  the  face. 
Don't  you  be  too  busy  ?     Where's  Nancy  ? " 

"  Oh,  she's  busy,  out  with  the  clothes." 

"  Same  as  ever  upstairs  ? — What  are  you  going 
to  do  for  breakfast,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  there  isn't  any- 
thing cooked  in  the  house  ;  we  have  eaten  every- 
thing up." 

"  Cleaned  out,  eh  ?     Bread  and  all  ?  \ 

"  Oh,  no,  not  bread ;  there's  plenty  ot  tnat,  but 
there's  nothing  else." 

"  Well,  never  mind  ; — you  bring  me  a  ham  and  a 
dozen  of  eggs,  and  I'll  make  you  a  first-rate  break- 
fast." 

Ellen  laughed,  for  this  was  not  the  first  time  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  had  acted  as  cook  for  the  family. 
While  she  got  what  he  had  asked  for,  and  bared  a 
place  on  the  table  for  his  operations,  he  went  to 
the  spout  and  washed  his  hands. 

"  Now  a  sharp  knife,  Ellen,  and  the  frying-pan, 
and  a  dish, — and  that's  all  I  want  of  you." 

Ellen  brought  them,  and  while  he  was  busy  with 
the  ham,  she  made  the  coffee,  and  set  it  by  the 
side  of  the  fire  to  boil ;  got  the  cream  and  butter, 
and  set  the  bread  on  the  table  ;  and  then  set 
herself  down  to  rest,  and  amuse  herself  with  Mr. 
Van  Brunt's  cookery.  He  was  no  mean  hand  ;  his 
slices  of  ham  were  very  artist-like,  and  frying  away 
in  the  most  unexceptionable  manner.  Ellen 
watched  him  and  laughed  at  him,  till  the  ham 
was  taken  out  and  all  the  eggs  broke  in ;  then, 


i4o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

after  seeing  that  the  coffee  was  right,  she  went 
upstairs  to  dress  her  grandmother — always  the  lasf 
thing  before  breakfast. 

"Who's  frying  ham  and  eggs  downstairs  ? "  in- 
quired Miss  Fortune. 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Ellen. 

This  answer  was  unexpected.  Miss  Fortune 
tossed  her  head  over  in  a  dissatisfied  kind  of  way. 
and  told  Ellen  to  "  tell  him  to  be  careful." 

"  Of  what  ?  "  thought  Ellen ;  and  wisely  con- 
cluded with  herself  not  to  deliver  the  message  ; 
very  certain  she  should  laugh  if  she  did,  and  she 
had  running  in  her  head  an  indistinct  notion  of 
the  command,  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother." 

Breakfast  was  ready,  but  no  one  there  when  she 
got  downstairs.  She  placed  her  grandmother  at 
table,  and  called  Nancy,  who  all  this  time  had  been 
getting  the  clothes  out  of  the  rinsing  water  and 
hanging  them  out  on  the  line  to  dry ;  said  clothes 
having  been  washed  the  day  before  by  Miss  Sarah 
Lowndes,  who  came  there  for  the  purpose.  Ellen 
poured  out  the  coffee,  and  then  in  came  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  with  a  head  of  early  lettuce,  which  he  had 
pulled  in  the  garden  and  washed  at  the  spout. 
Ellen  had  to  jump  up  again  to  get  the  salt  and 
pepper  and  vinegar;  but  she  always  jumped 
willingly  for  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  The  meals  were 
pleasanter  during  those  weeks  than  in  all  the  time 
Ellen  had  been  in  Thirlwall  before  ;  or  she  thought 
so.  That  sharp  eye  at  the  head  of  the  table  was 
pleasantly  missed.  They  with  one  accord  sat 
longer  at  meals ;  more  talking  and  laughing  went 
on  ;  nobody  felt  afraid  of  being  snapped  up.  Mr. 
Van  Brunt   praised   Ellen's  coffee  (he  had  taught 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  141 

her  how  to  make  it),  and  she  praised  his  ham  and 
eggs.  Old  Mrs.  Montgomery  praised  everything, 
and  seemed  to  be  in  particular  comfort ;  talked  as 
much  as  she  had  a  mind,  and  was  respectfully 
attended  to.  Nancy  was  in  high  feather  ;  and  the 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks  and  teacups  went  on 
very  pleasantly.  But  at  last,  chairs  were  pushed 
from  the  table,  and  work  began  again. 

Nancy  went  back  to  her  tubs.  Ellen  supplied 
her  grandmother  with  her  knitting  and  filled  her 
snuff-box  ;  cleared  the  table,  and  put  up  the  dishes 
ready  for  washing.  Then  she  went  into  the  buttery 
to  skim  the  cream.  This  was  a  part  of  the  work 
she  liked.  It  was  heavy  lifting  the  pans  of  milk  to 
the  skimming  shelf  before  the  window;  but  as  Ellen 
drew  her  spoon  round  the  edge  of  the  cream  she 
liked  to  see  it  wrinkle  up  in  thick  yellow  leathery 
folds,  showing  how  deep  and  rich  it  was ;  it  looked 
half  butter  already.  She  knew  how  to  take  it  off 
now  very  nicely.  The  cream  was  set  by  in  a  vessel 
for  future  churning,  and  the  milk,  as  each  pan  was 
skimmed,  was  poured  down  the  wooden  trough  at 
the  left  of  the  window,  through  which  it  went  into 
a  great  hogshead  at  the  lower  kitchen  door. 

This  done,  Ellen  went  upstairs  to  her  aunt.  Dn 
Gibson  always  came  early,  and  she  and  her  room 
must  be  put  in  apple-pie  order  first.  It  was  a  long, 
wearisome  job.  Ellen  brought  the  basin  for  her  to 
wash  her  face  and  hands  ;  then  combed  her  hair 
and  put  on  her  clean  cap.  That  was  always  the 
first  thing.  The  next  was  to  make  the  bed  ;  and 
for  this,  Miss  Fortune,  weak  or  strong,  wrapped 
herself  up  and  tumbled  out  upon  the  floor.  When 
she  was  comfortably  placed  again,  Ellen  had  to  go 


142  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

through  a  laborious  dusting  of  the  room  and  all  the 
things  in  it,  even  taking  a  dustpan  and  brush  to  the 
floor  if  any  speck  of  dust  or  crumbs  could  be  seen 
there.  Every  rung  of  every  chair  must  be  gone 
over,  though  never  so  clean  ;  every  article  put  up 
or  put  out  of  the  way ;  Miss  Fortune  made  the 
most  of  the  little  province  of  housekeeping  that  was 
left  her;  and  a  fluttering  tape  escaping  through  the 
crack  of  the  door  would  have  put  her  whole  spirit 
topsy-turvy.  When  all  was  to  her  mind,  and  not 
before,  she  would  have  her  breakfast.  Only  gruel 
and  biscuit,  or  toast  and  tea,  or  some  such  trifle, 
but  Ellen  must  prepare  it,  and  bring  it  upstairs, 
and  wait  till  it  was  eaten.  And  very  particularly  it 
must  be  prepared,  and  very  faultlessly  it  must  be 
served,  or  with  an  impatient  expression  of  disgust 
Miss  Fortune  would  send  it  down  again.  On  the 
whole,  Ellen  always  thought  herself  happy  when 
this  part  of  her  day  was  well  over. 

When  she  got  down  this  morning  she  found  the 
kitchen  in  nice  order,  and  Nancy  standing  by  the 
fire  in  a  little  sort  of  pause,  having  just  done  the 
breakfast  dishes. 

"  Well !  "  said  Nancy, — "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  now  ?  " 

"  Put  away  these  dishes,  and  then  churn,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  My  goodness  !  so  you  are.  What's  going  to  be 
for  dinner,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  That's  more  than  I  know,"  said  Ellen  laughing. 
"We  have  eaten  up  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  pie  and 
washed  the  dish ; — there's  nothing  but  some  cold 
potatoes." 

**  That  won't  do,"  said  Nancy.     "  I  tell  you  what 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  143 

Ellen, — we'll  just  boil  pot  for  to-day;  somebody 
else  will  send  us  something  by  to-morrow  most 
likely." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  '  boil  pot,'  " 
said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  everything  yet  by  half, 
/know — I'll  fix  it.  You  just  give  me  the  things, 
Miss  Housekeeper,  that's  all  you've  got  to  do ;  I 
want  a  piece  of  pork  and  a  piece  of  beef,  and  all 
the  vegetables  you've  got." 

"  All  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Every  soul  on  'em.  Don't  be  scared,  Ellen  ; 
you  shall  see  what  I  can  do  in  the  way  of  cookery ; 
if  you  don't  like  it  you  needn't  eat  it.  What  have 
you  got  in  the  cellar  ?  " 

"  Come  and  see,  and  take  what  you  want,  Nancy  \ 
there  is  plenty  of  potatoes  and  carrots  and  onions, 
and  beets,  I  believe  ;  the  turnips  are  all  gone." 

"  Parsnips  out  in  the  yard,  ain't  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you'll  have  to  do  with  a  piece  of  pork, 
Nancy.     I  don't  know  anything  about  beef." 

While  Nancy  went  round  the  cellar,  gathering  in 
her  apron  the  various  roots  she  wanted,  Eilen  un- 
covered the  pork  barrel,  and,  after  looking  a  minute 
at  the  dark  pickle  she  never  loved  to  plunge  into, 
bravely  bared  her  arm  and  fished  up  a  piece  of 
pork. 

"  Now,  Nancy,  just  help  me  with  this  churn  out 
of  the  cellar,  will  you  ?  and  then  you  may  go." 

"  My  goodness !  it  is  heavy,"  said  Nancy. 
"  You'll  have  a  time  of  it,  Ellen  ,  but  I  can't  help 
you." 

She  went  off  to  the  garden  for  parsnips,  and  Ellen 
quietly  put  in  the  dasher  and  cover,  and  began    to 


144  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

churn.  It  was  tiresome  work.  The  churn  was 
pretty  full,  as  Nancy  had  said  ;  the  cream  was  rich 
and  cold,  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  grew  very 
stiff.  It  spattered  and  sputtered  up  on  Ellen's 
face  and  hands  and  frock  and  apron,  and  over  the 
floor ;  legs  and  arms  were  both  weary  ;  but  still 
that  pitiless  dasher  must  go  up  and  down,  hard  as 
it  might  be  to  force  it  either  way ;  she  must  not 
stop.  In  this  state  of  matters  she  heard  a  pair  of 
thick  shoes  come  clumping  down  the  stair,  and 
behold  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  Here  you  are  !  "  said  he.  "  Churning  ! — Been 
long  at  it  ?  " 

ft  A  good  while,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Coming  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  when." 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  stepped  to  the  door  and  shouted 
for  Sam  Larkens.  He  was  ordered  to  take  the 
churn  and  bring  the  butter ;  and  Ellen,  very  glad 
of  a  rest,  went  out  to  amuse  herself  with  feeding 
the  chickens,  and  then  upstairs  to  see  what  Nancy 
was  doing. 

"  Butter  come  ?  "  said  Nancy. 

"  No,  Sam  has  taken  it.  How  are  you  getting 
on  ?     Oh,  I  am  tired  !  " 

"  I'm  getting  on  first  rate  ;  I've  got  all  the  things 
in." 

"  In  what !  " 

"  Why  in  the  pot ! — in  a  pot  of  water,  boiling 
away  as  fast  as  they  can  ;  we'll  have  dinner  directly. 
Hurra  !  who  comes  there  ?  " 

She  jumped  to  the  door.  It  was  Thomas,  bring- 
ing Margery's  respects,  and  a  custard  pie,  for  Miss 
Ellen. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  145 

"  I  declare,"  said  Nancy,  "it  is  a  good  thing  to 
have  friends,  ain't  it  ?  I'll  try  and  get  some. — 
Hollo  !  what's  wanting  ? — Mr.  Van  Brunt's  calling 
you,  Ellen." 

Ellen  ran  down. 

"  The  butter's  come,"  said  he.  "  Now,  do  you 
know  what  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ellen,  smiling ;  "  Margery  showed 
me  nicely." 

He  brought  her  a  pail  of  water  from  the  spout, 
and  stood  by  with  a  pleased  kind  of  look,  while  she 
carefully  lifted  the  cover  and  rinsed  down  the  little 
bits  of  butter  which  stuck  to  it  and  the  dasher ; 
took  out  the  butter  with  her  ladle  into  a  large 
wooden  bowl,  washed  it,  and  finally  salted  it. 

"Don't  take  too  much  pains,"  said  he; — "the 
less  of  the  hand  it  gets  the  better.  That  will  do 
very  well." 

"  Now  are  you  ready  ? "  said  Nancy,  coming 
downstairs,  "  'cause  dinner  is.  My  goodness  ! 
'Ain't  that  a  fine  lot  of  butter  !  there's  four  pounds, 
ain't  there  ? " 

"  Five,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  And  as  sweet  as  it  can  be,"  said  Ellen.  "  Beau- 
tiful, isn't  it  ?  Yes,  I'm  ready,  as  soon  as  I  set 
this  in  the  cellar  and  cover  it  up." 

Nancy's  dish, — the  pork,  potatoes,  carrots,  beets, 
and  cabbage,  all  boiled  in  the  same  pot  together, 
— was  found  very  much  to  everybody's  taste,  except 
Ellen's.  She  made  her  dinner  off  potatoes  and 
bread,  the  former  of  which  she  declared,  laughing, 
were  very  porky  and  cabbagy ;  her  meal  would 
have  been  an  extremely  light  one  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  custard  pi^ 
10 


146  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

After  dinner  new  labors  began.  Nancy  had 
forgotten  to  hang  on  a  pot  of  water  for  the  dishes ; 
so  after  putting  away  the  eatables  in  the  buttery, 
while  the  water  was  heating,  Ellen  warmed  some 
gruel  and  carried  it  with  a  plate  of  biscuit  upstairs 
to  her  aunt.  But  Miss  Fortune  said  she  was  tired 
of  gruel  and  couldn't  eat  it ;  she  must  have  some  milk 
porridge  :  and  she  gave  Ellen  very  particular  direc- 
tions how  to  make  it.  Ellen  sighed  only  once  as  she 
went  down  with  her  despised  dish  of  gruel,  and  set 
about  doing  her  best  to  fulfill  her  aunt's  wishes. 
The  first  dish  of  milk  she  burnt ; — another  sigh 
and  another  trial ; — better  care  this  time  had  better 
success,  and  Ellen  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  her 
aunt  perfectly  suited  with  her  dinner. 

When  she  came  down  with  the  empty  bowl  Nancy 
had  a  pile  of  dishes  ready  washed,  and  Ellen  took 
the  towel  to  dry  them.  Mrs.  Montgomery,  who  had 
been  in  an  uncommonly  quiet  fit  all  day,  now  laid 
down  her  knitting  and  asked  if  Ellen  would  not 
come  and  read  to  her. 

"  Presently,  grandma, — as  soon  as  I  have  done 
here." 

"  I  know  somebody  that's  tired,"  said  Nancy. 
•*  I  tell  you  what,  Ellen, — you  had  better  take  to 
liking  pork  ;  you  can't  work  on  potatoes.  I  ain't 
tired  a  bit.  There's  somebody  coming  to  the  door 
again  !  Do  run  and  open  it,  will  you  ?  my  hands 
are  wet.  I  wonder  why  folks  can't  come  in  with- 
out giving  so  much  trouble." 

It  was  Thomas  again,  with  a  package  for  Ellen 
which  had  just  come,  he  said,  and  Miss  Alice 
thought  she  would  like  to  have  it  directly.  Ellen 
thanked  her,  and  thanked  him,  with  a  face  from 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  147 

which  all  signs  of  weariness  had  fled  away.  The 
parcel  was  sealed  up,  and  directed  in  a  hand  she 
was  pretty  sure  she  knew.  Her  fingers  burned  to 
break  the  seals ;  but  she  would  not  open  it  there, 
neither  leave  her  work  unfinished  ;  she  went  on 
wiping  the  dishes  with  trembling  hands  and  a  beat- 
ing heart. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  Nancy  ;  "  what  did  Thomas 
Grimes  want  ?  what  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  ; — "  some- 
thing good,  I  guess." 

"  Something  good  ? — is  it  something  to  eat  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  didn't  mean  anything  to 
eat  when  I  said  something  good  ;  1  don't  think 
those  are  the  best  things." 

To  Ellen's  delight,  she  saw  that  her  grandmother 
had  forgotten  about  the  reading  and  was  quietly 
taking  short  naps  with  her  head  against  the  chimney. 
So  she  put  away  the  last  dish,  and  then  seized  her 
package  and  flew  upstairs.  She  was  sure  it  had 
come  from  Doncaster;  she  was  right.  It  was  a 
beautiful  copy  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress, — on  the 
first  leaf  written,  "  To  my  little  sister,  Ellen  Mont- 
gomery, from  J.  H.,"  and  within  the  cover  lay  a 
letter.  This  letter  Ellen  read  in  the  course  of  the 
next  six  days  at  least  twice  as  many  times ;  and 
never  without  crying  over  it. 

"  Alice  has  told  me "  (said  John)  "  about  your 
new  troubles.  There  is  said  to  be  a  time  '  when 
the  clouds  return  after  the  rain.'  I  am  sorry,  my 
little  sister,  this  time  should  come  to  you  so  early. 
I  often  think  of  you,  and  wish  I  could  be  near  you. 
Still,  dear  Ellie,  the  good  Husbandman  knows  what 
His  plants  want ;  do  you  believe  that,  and  can  you 


148  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

trust  Him  ?  They  should  have  nothing  but  sui* 
shine  if  that  was  good  for  them.  He  knows  it  is 
not ;  so  there  come  clouds  and  rains,  and  '  stormy 
wind  fulfilling  His  will.  And  what  is  it  all  for  ? — 
1  Herein  is  My  Father  glorified,  that  ye  bear  much 
fruit ;'  do  not  disappoint  His  purpose,  Ellie.  We 
shall  have  sunshine  enough  by  and  by, — but  I 
know  it  is  hard  for  so  young  a  one  as  my  little  sister 
to  look  much  forward  ;  so  do  not  look  forward, 
Ellie  ;  look  up  ;  look  off  unto  Jesus, — from  all  your 
duties,  troubles,'  and  wants  ;  He  will  help  you  in 
them  all.  The  more  you  look  up  to  Him  the  more 
He  will  look  down  to  you ;  and  He  especially  said, 
*  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me  ;'  you  see 
you  are  particularly  invited." 

Ellen  was  a  long  time  upstairs,  and  when  she 
came  down  it  was  with  red  eyes. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  was  now  awake  and  asked  for 
the  reading  again ;  and  for  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  Ellen  and  she  were  quietly  busy  with  the 
Bible.  Nancy  meanwhile  was  downstairs  washing 
the  dairy  things.  When  her  grandmother  released 
her  Ellen  had  to  go  up  to  wait  upon  her  aunt ; 
after  which  she  went  into  the  buttery,  and  skimmed 
the  cream,  and  got  the  pans  ready  for  the  evening 
milk.  By  this  time  it  was  five  o'clock,  and  Nancy 
came  in  with  the  basket  of  dry  clothes  ;  at  which 
Ellen  looked  with  the  sorrowful  consciousness  that 
they  must  be  sprinkled,  and  folded  by  and  by,  and 
ironed  to-morrow.  It  happened,  however,  that 
Jane  Huff  came  in  just  then  with  a  quantity  of  hot 
short-cake  for  tea  ;  and  seeing  the  basket  she  very 
kindly  took  the  business  of  sprinkling  and  folding 
upon  herself.     This  gave  Ellen  spirits  to  carry  out 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  149 

a  plan  she  had  long  had,  to  delight  the  whole  family 
with  some  eggs  scrambled  in  Margery's  fashion. 
After  the  milk  was  strained  and  put  away  she  went 
about  it,  while  Nancy  set  the  table.  A  nice  bed  of 
coals  was  prepared  ;  the  spider  set  over  them  ;  the 
eggs  broken  in,  peppered  and  salted  ;  and  she  be- 
gan carefully  to  stir  them  as  she  had  seen  Margery 
do.  But  instead  of  acting  right  the  eggs  maliciously 
stuck  fast  to  the  spider  and  burned.  Ellen  was 
confounded. 

"  How  much  butter  did  you  put  in  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  who  had  come  in  and  stood  looking 
on. 

"  Butter  !  "  said  Ellen  looking  up, — "  oh,  I  forgot 
all  about  it  ! — I  ought  to  have  put  that  in,  oughtn't 
I  ? — I'm  sorry  !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt, — "  't  aint 
worth  your  being  sorry  about.  Here,  Nancy — 
clean  us  off  this  spider,  and  we'll  try  again." 

At  this  moment  Miss  Fortune  was  heard  scream- 
ing ;   Ellen  ran  up. 

"  What  did  she  want  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  when 
she  came  down  again. 

"  She  wanted  to  know  what  was  burning." 

"  Did  you  tell  her  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Said  I  mustn't  use  any  more  eggs  without  ask- 
ing her." 

"  That  ain't  fair  play,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ;— 
"  you  and  I  are  the  head  of  the  house  now,  I  take 
it.  You  just  use  as  many  on  'em  as  you've  a  mind  ; 
and  all  you  spile  I'll  fetch  you  again  from  hum. 
That's  you,  Nancy  !     Now,  Ellen,  here's  the  spider ; 


*5° 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


try  again ;  let's  have  plenty  of  butter  in  this  timq 
and  plenty  of  eggs  too." 

This  time  the  eggs  were  scrambled  to  a  nicety, 
and  the  supper  met  with  great  favor  from  all 
parties. 

Ellen's  day  was  done  when  the  dishes  were. 
The  whole  family  went  early  to  bed.  She  was 
weary  ;  but  she  could  rest  well.  She  had  made 
her  old  grandmother  comfortable  ;  she  had  kept 
the  peace  with  Nancy  ;  she  had  pleased  Mr.  Van 
Brunt ;  she  had  faithfully  served  her  aunt.  Her 
sleep  was  uncrossed  by  a  dream,  untroubled  by  a 
single  jar  of  conscience.  And  her  awaking  to 
another  day  of  labor,  though  by  no  means  joyful, 
was  yet  not  unhopeful  or  unhappy. 

She  had  a  hard  trial  a  day  or  two  after.  It  was 
in  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  she  had  her  big  apron 
on,  and  was  in  the  buttery  skimming  the  milk, 
when  she  heard  the  kitchen  door  open,  and  foot- 
steps enter  the  kitchen  $ut  went  little  Ellen  to 
see  who  it  was,  and  there  stor^  Alice  and  old  Mr. 
Marshman  !  He  was  going  d  take  Alice  home 
with  him  the  next  morning,  and  wanted  Ellen  to  go 
too  ;  and  they  had  come  to  ask  her.  Ellen  knew 
it  was  impossible,  that  is,  that  it  would  not  be 
right,  and  she  said  so ;  and  in  spite  of  Alice's 
wistful  look,  and  Mr.  Marshman's  insisting,  shg 
stood  her  ground.  Not  without  some  difficulty,  and 
some  glistening  of  the  eyes.  They  had  to  give  it 
up.  Mr.  Marshman  then  wanted  to  know  what 
she  meant  by  swallowing  herself  up  in  an  apron  in 
that  sort  of  a  way  ?  so  Ellen  had  him  into  the 
buttery  and  showed  him  what  she  had  been  about. 
He  would  see  her  skim  several  pans,  and  laughed 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  151 

at  her  prodigiously;  though  there  was  a  queer 
look  about  his  eyes,  too,  all  the  time.  And  when 
he  went  away,  he  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her  again,  and  again  ;  and  said  that  "some  of 
these  days  he  would  take  her  away  from  her  aunt 
and  she  should  have  her  no  more."  Ellen  stood 
and  looked  after  them  till  they  were  out  of  sight, 
and  then  went  upstairs  and  had  a  good  cry. 

The  butter-making  soon  became  quite  too  much 
for  Ellen  to  manage ;  so  Jane  Huff  and  Jenny 
Hitchcock  were  engaged  to  come  by  turns  and  do 
the  heavy  part  of  it ;  all  within  the  buttery  being 
still  left  to  Ellen,  for  Miss  Fortune  would  have  no 
one  else  go  there.  It  was  a  great  help  to  have 
them  take  even  so  much  off  her  hands ;  and  they 
often  did  some  other  little  odd  jobs  for  her.  The 
milk,  however,  seemed  to  increase  as  fast  as  the 
days  grew  longer,  and  Ellen  could  not  find  that 
she  was  much  less  busy.  The  days  were  growing 
pleasant  too ;  soft  airs  began  to  come ;  the  grass 
was  of  a  beautiful  green  ;  the  buds  on  the  branches 
began  to  swell,  and  on  some  trees  to  put  out. 
When  Ellen  had  a  moment  of  time,  she  used  to 
run  across  the  chip-yard  to  the  barn,  or  round  the 
garden,  or  down  to  the  brook,  and  drink  in  the 
sweet  air  and  the  lovely  sights  which  never  had 
seemed  quite  so  lovely  before.  If,  once  in  a  while, 
she  could  get  half  an  hour  before  tea,  she  used  to 
take  her  book  and  sit  down  on  the  threshold  of 
the  front  door  5  or  on  the  big  log  under  the  apple- 
tree  in  the  chip-yard.  In  those  minutes  the  read- 
ing was  doubly  sweet ;  or  else  the  loveliness  of 
earth  and  sky  was  such  that  Ellen  could  not  take 
her  eyes  from  them  ;  till  she    saw    Sam  or  Johnny 


152  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

coming  out  of  the  cow-house  door  with  the  pails  of 
milk,  or  heard  their  heavy  tramp  over  the  chips ; — « 
then  she  had  to  jump  and  run.  Those  were  sweet 
half  hours.  Ellen  did  not  at  first  know  how  much 
reason  she  had  to  be  delighted  with  her  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  ;  "  she  saw  to  be  sure  that  it  was  fine 
copy,  well  bound,  with  beautiful  cuts.  But  when  she 
came  to  look  further,  she  found  all  through  the  book, 
on  the  margin  or  at  the  bottom  of  the  leaves,  in 
John's  beautiful  handwriting  a  great  many  notes  ; 
simple,  short,  plain,  exactly  what  was  needed  to 
open  the  whole  book  to  her  and  make  it  of  the 
greatest  possible  use  and  pleasure.  Many  things 
she  remembered  hearing  from  his  lips  when  they 
were  reading  it  together  ;  there  was  a  large  part  of 
the  book  where  all  was  new  ;  the  part  he  had  n^t 
had  time  to  finish.  How  Ellen  loved  the  book  and 
the  giver  when  she  found  these  beautiful  notes,  it 
is  impossible  to  tell.  She  counted  it  her  greatest 
treasure  next  to  her  little  red  Bible. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"  Oh  what  will  I  do  wi'  him  quo'  he, 

What  will  I  do  wi'  him  ? 

What  will  I  do  wi'  him  quo'  he, 

What  will  I  do  wi'  him?  " 

Old  Song. 

In  the  course  of  time  Miss  Fortune  showed 
signs  of  mending  •  and  at  last  towards  the  latter 
end  of  April,  she  was  able  to  come  downstairs. 
All  parties  hailed  this  event  for  different  reasons  ; 
even  Nancy  was  grown  tired  of  her  regular  life, 
and  willing  to  have  a  change.  Ellen's  joy  was, 
however,  soon  diminished  by  the  terrible  rum- 
maging which  took  place.     Miss  Fortune's  hands 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  153 

were  yet  obliged  to  lie  still,  but  her  eyes  did  double 
duty ;  they  were  never  known  to  be  idle  in  the  best  of 
times,  and  it  seemed  to  Ellen  now  as  if  they  were 
making  amends  for  all  their  weeks  of  forced  rest. 
Oh,  those  eyes !  Dust  was  found  where  Ellen 
never  dreamed  of  looking  for  any  ;  things  were  said 
to  be  dreadfully  "  in  the  way  "  where  she  had  never 
found  it  out  ;  disorder  and  dirt  were  groaned  over 
where  Ellen  did  not  know  the  fact  or  was 
utterly  ignorant  how  to  help  it  ;  waste  was  sus- 
pected where  none  had  been,  and  carelessness, 
charged  where  rather  praise  was  due.  Impatient 
to  have  things  to  her  mind,  and  as  yet  unable  to* 
do  anything  herself,  Miss  Fortune  kept  Nancy  and 
Ellen  running,  till  both  wished  her  back  in  bed ;. 
and  even  Mr.  Van  Brunt  grumbled  that  "  to  pay- 
Ellen  for  having  grown  white  and  poor,  her  aunt 
was  going  to  work  the  little  flesh  she  had  left  off 
her  bones."  It  was  rather  hard  to  bear,  just  when 
she  was  looking  for  ease  too ;  her  patience  and 
temper  were  more  tried  than  in  all  those  weeks 
before.  But  if  there  was  small  pleasure  in  pleas- 
ing her  aunt,  Ellen  did  earnestly  wish  to  please 
God ;  she  struggled  against  ill-temper,  prayed 
against  it ;  and  though  she  often  blamed  herself  in 
secret,  she  did  so  go  through  that  week  as  to  call, 
forth  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  admiration,  and  even  to  stir 
a  little  the  conscience  of  her  aunt.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
comforted  her  with  the  remark  that  "  it  is  darkest 
just  before  day,"  and  so  it  proved.  Before  the 
week  was  at  an  end  Miss  Fortune  began,  as  she 
expressed  it,  to  "  take  hold  ;  "  Jenny  Hitchcock, 
and  Jane  Huff  were  excused  from  any  more  butter- 
making  ;    Nancy   was   sent    away ;     Ellen's    labors 


154  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

were  much  lightened,  and  the  house  was  itself 
again. 

The  third  of  May  came.  For  the  first  time  in 
nearly  two  months  Ellen  found  in  the  afternoon 
she  could  be  spared  awhile  ;  there  was  no  need  to 
think  twice  what  she  would  do  with  her  leisure. 
Perhaps  Margery  could  tell  her  something  of 
Alice  ?  Hastily  and  joyfully  she  exchanged  her 
working  frock  for  a  merino,  put  on  nice  shoes  and 
stockings  and  ruffle  again,  and  taking  her  bonnet 
and  gloves  to  put  on  out  of  doors,  away  she  ran. 
Who  can  tell  how  pleasant  it  seems,  after  so  many 
weeks,  to  be  able  to  walk  abroad  again,  and  to 
walk  to  the  mountain  !  Ellen  snuffed  the  sweet 
air,  skipped  on  the  greensward,  picked  nosegays  of 
grass  and  dandelions,  and  at  last,  unable  to  con- 
tain herself,  set  off  to  run.  Fatigue  soon  brought 
this  to  a  stop ;  then  she  walked  more  leisurely  on, 
enjoying.  It  was  a  lovely  spring  day.  Ellen's 
eyes  were  gladdened  by  it ;  she  felt  thankful  in 
her  heart  that  God  had  made  everything  so 
beautiful ;  she  thought  it  was  pleasant  to  think  He 
had  made  them  ;  pleasant  to  see  in  them  every- 
where so  much  of  the  wisdom  and  power  and  good- 
ness of  him  she  looked  up  to  with  joy  as  her  best 
friend.  She  felt  quietly  happy,  and  sure  He  would 
take  care  of  her.  Then  a  thought  of  Alice  came 
into  her  head  ;  she  set  off  to  run  again,  and  kept  it  up 
this  time  till  she  got  to  the  old  house  and  ran  round 
the  corner.  She  stopped  at  the  shed  door  and  went 
through  into  the  lower  kitchen. 

"  Why,  Miss  Ellen  dear  !  "  exclaimed  Margery, — 
"  if  that  isn't  you  !  Aren't  you  come  in  the  very  nick 
of  time  !  How  do  you   do  ?     I  am  very  glad    to  see 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  155 

you — uncommon  glad,  to  be  sure.  What  witch  told 
you  to  come  here  just  now  ?  Run  in,  run  into  the 
parlor  and  see  what  you'll  find  there." 

"  Has  Alice  come  back  ? "  cried  Ellen.  But 
Margery  only  laughed  and  said,  "  Run  in  !  " 

Up  the  steps,  through  the  kitchen,  and  across 
the  hall,  Ellen  ran, — burst  open  the  parlor  door, — 
and  was  in  Alice's  arms.  There  were  others  in 
the  room  ;  but  Ellen  did  not  seem  to  know  it, 
clinging  to  her  and  holding  her  in  a  fast  glad 
embrace,  till  Alice  bade  her  look  up  and  attend  to 
somebody  else.  And  then  she  was  seized  round 
the  neck  by  little  Ellen  Chauncey ! — and  then 
came  her  mother,  and  then  Miss  Sophia.  The  two 
children  were  overjoyed  to  see  each  other,  while 
their  joy  was  touching  to  see,  from  the  shade  of 
sorrow  in  the  one,  and  of  sympathy  in  the  other. 
Ellen  was  scarcely  less  glad  to  see  kind  Mrs. 
Chauncey  ;  Miss  Sophia's  greeting  too  was  very 
affectionate.  But  Ellen  returned  to  Alice,  and 
rested  herself  in  her  lap,  with  one  arm  round 
her  neck,  the  other  hand  being  in  little  Ellen's 
grasp. 

"  And  now  you  are  happy,  I  suppose/'  said  Miss 
Sophia  when  they  were  thus  placed. 

"  Very,"  said  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  Ah,  but  you'll  be  happier  by  and  by,"  said 
Ellen  Chauncey. 

"  Hush,  Ellen  !  "  said  Miss  Sophia  ;— "  what 
curious  things  children  are  ! — You  didn't  expect 
to  find  us  all  here,  did  you,  Ellen  Montgomery  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  drawing 
Alice's  cheek  nearer  for  another  kiss. 

"  We  have  but  just  come,  Ellie,"  said  her  sister. 


.  *5* 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


u  I  should  not  have  been  long  in  finding  you  out 
My  child,  how  thin  you  have  got." 

"  Oh,  I'll  grow  fat  again,  now,"  said  Ellen 

"  How  is  Miss  Fortune  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  up  again  and  well." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  expect  your  father 
home,  Ellen  ? "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ; — Aunt  Fortune  says  perhaps  he 
will  be  here  in  a  week." 

"  Then  you  are  very  happy  in  looking  forward, 
aren't  you  ?  "  said  Miss  Sophia,  not  noticing  the 
cloud  that  had  come  over  Ellen's  brow. 

Ellen  hesitated, — colored, — colored  more, — and 
finally  with  a  sudden  motion  hid  her  face  against 
Alice. 

"  When  did  he  sail,  Ellie  ? "  said  Alice,  gravely. 

"  In  the  Due  d'Orleans — he  said  he  would " 

"  When  ?  " 

"The  fifth  of  April.— Oh,  I  can't  help  it  P* 
exclaimed  Ellen,  failing  in  the  effort  to  control 
herself ;  she  clasped  Alice  as  if  she  feared  even 
then  the  separating  hand.  Alice  bent  her  head 
down  and  whispered  words  of  comfort. 

"  Mamma  !  "  said  little  Ellen  Chauncey  under 
her  breath,  and  looking  solemn  to  the  last  degree, 
— "don't  Ellen  want  to  see  her  father  ?  " 

"  She's  afraid  that  he  may  take  her  away  where 
she  will  not  be  with  Alice  any  more  ;  and  you 
know  she  has  no  mother  to  go  to." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Ellen  with  a  very  enlightened  face  ; 
— "  but  he  won't,  will  he  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not;   I  think  not." 

Cheered  again,  the  little  girl  drew  near  and 
silently  took  one  of  Ellen's  hands. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD,  157 

"We  shall  not  be  parted,  Ellie,"  said  Alice, — 
"you  need  not  fear.  If  your  father  takes  you 
away  from  your  Aunt  Fortune,  I  think  it  will  only 
be  to  give  you  to  me.     You  need  not  fear  yet." 

"  Mamma  says  so  too,  Ellen,"  said  her  little 
friend. 

This  was  strong  consolation.  Ellen  looked  up 
and  smiled. 

"Now  come  with  me,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey, 
pulling  her  hand, — "  I  want  you  to  show  me  some- 
thing; let's  go  down  to  the  garden, — come  !  exer- 
cise is  good  for  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  her  mother,  smiling, — "  Ellen  has 
had  exercise  enough  lately  ;  you  mustn't  take  her 
down  to  the  garden  now  ;  you  would  find  nothing 
there.     Come  here  !  " 

A  long  whisper  followed,  which  seemed  to 
satisfy  little  Ellen,  and  she  ran  out  of  the  room. 
Some  time  passed  in  pleasant  talk  and  telling  all 
that  had  happened  since  they  had  seen  each  other  • 
then  little  Ellen  came  back  and  called  Ellen 
Montgomery  to  the  glass  door,  saying  she  wanted 
her  to  look  at  something. 

"  It  is  only  a  horse  we  brought  with  us,"  said 
Miss  Sophia.  "  Ellen  thinks  it  is  a  great  beauty, 
and  can't  rest  till  you  have  seen  it." 

Ellen  went  according  to  the  door.  There  to  be 
sure  was  Thomas  before  it,  holding  a  pony, 
bridled  and  saddled.  He  was  certainly  a  very 
pretty  little  creature  :  brown  all  over  except  one 
white  forefoot ;  his  coat  shone,  it  was  so  glossy  ; 
his  limbs  were  fine;  his  eye  gentle  and  bright;  his 
tail  long  enough  to  please  the  children.  He  stood 
as  quiet  as  a  lamb,  whether  Thomas  held  him  01 
lot. 


158  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beauty  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  what  a 
lovely  little  horse  !  " 

"  Ain't  he  !  "  said  Ellen  Chauncey  ; — :c  and  he 
goes  so  beautifully  besides,  and  never  starts  nor 
nothing;  and  he  is  as  good-natured  as  a  little 
dog." 

"  As  a  good-natured  little  dog,  she  means,  Ellen," 
said  Miss  Sophia, — "  there  are  little  dogs  of  very 
various  character." 

"  Well,  he  looks  good-natured,"  said  Ellen. 
"  What  a  pretty  head  ! — and  what  a  beautiful  new 
side-saddle,  and  all.  I  never  saw  such  a  dear 
little  horse  in  my  life.     Is  it  yours,  Alice  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Alice,  "  it  is  a  present  to  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Marshman's." 

"  She'll  be  a  very  happy  friend,  I  should  think," 
said  Ellen. 

"  That's  what  I  said,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey, 
dancing  up  and  down, — "  that's  what  I  said.  I 
said  you'd  be  happier  by  and  by,  didn't  I  ? " 

"  I  ?"  said  Ellen,  coloring. 

"Yes,  you, — you  are  the  friend  it  is  for  ;  it's  for 
you,  it's  for  you  !  you  are  grandpa's  friend,  aren't 
you  ? "  she  repeated,  springing  upon  Ellen,  and 
hugging  her  up  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"  But  it  isn't  really  for  me,  is  it  ?  "  said  Ellen, 
now  looking  almost  pale  ; — "  oh,  Alice  ! " 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Miss  Sophia, — "  what  will 
papa  say  if  I  tell  him  you  received  his  present  so  ? 
— come,  hold  up  your  head  !  Put  on  your  bonnet 
and  try  him ; — come,  Ellen  !  let's  see  you." 

Ellen  did  not  know  whether  to  cry  or  laugh, — 
till  she  mounted  the  pretty  pony ;  that  settled  the 
matter.     Not   Ellen  Chauncey's    unspeakable    de- 


THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD.  159 

light  was  as  great  as  her  own.  She  rode  slowly  up 
and  down  before  the  house,  and  once  a-going 
would  not  have  known  how  to  stop  if  she  had  not 
recollected  that  the  pony  had  traveled  thirty  miles 
that  day  and  must  be  tired.  Ellen  took  not 
another  turn  after  that.  She  jumped  down,  and 
begged  Thomas  to  take  the  tenderest  care  of  him  ; 
patted  his  neck  ;  ran  into  the  kitchen  to  beg  of 
Margery  a  piece  of  bread  to  give  him  from  her 
hand ;  examined  the  new  stirrup  and  housings, 
and  the  pony  all  over  a  dozen  times ;  and  after 
watching  him  as  Thomas  led  him  off,  till  he  was 
out  of  sight,  finally  came  back  into  the  house  with 
a  face  of  marvelous  contentment.  She  tried  to 
fashion  some  message  of  thanks  for  the  kind  giver 
of  the  pony ;  but  she  wanted  to  express  so  much 
that  no  words  would  do.  Mrs.  Chauncey,  however, 
smiled  and  assured  her  she  knew  exactly  what  to  say. 

"  That  pony  has  been  destined  for  you,  Ellen," 
she  said,  "  this  year  and  more ;  but  my  father 
waited  to  have  him  thoroughly  well  broken.  You 
need  not  be  afraid  of  him  ;  he  is  perfectly  gentle 
and  well-trained  ;  if  he  had  not  been  sure  of  that 
my  father  would  never  have  sent  him  ; — though 
Mr.  John  is  making  such  a  horsewoman  of  you." 

"I  wish  I  could  thank  him,"  said  Ellen  ; — "but 
I  don't  know  how." 

"  What  will  you  call  him,  Ellen  ? "  said  Miss 
Sophia.  "  My  father  has  dubbed  him  '  George 
Marshman ;  ' — he  says  you  will  like  that,  as  my 
brother  is  such  a  favorite  of  yours." 

"  He  didn't  really,  did  he  ?  "  said  Ellen,  looking 
from  Sophia  to  Alice.  "  I  needn't  call  him  that, 
need  I  ? " 


160  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Not  unless  you  like,"  said  Miss  Sophia,  laugh- 
ing,— "  you  may  change  it ;  but  what  will  you  call 
him  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  very  gravely, — "  he 
must  have  a  name  to  be  sure." 

"  But  why  don't  you  call  him  that  ?  "  said  Ellen 
Chauncey  ; — "  George  is  a  very  pretty  name  ; — 1 
like  that ;  I  should  call  him  '  Uncle  George.'  " 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  !  "  said  Ellen,—"  I  couldn't  call 
him  so ;   I  shouldn't  like  it  at  all." 

"  George  Washington  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  I  guess  I 
wouldn't !  " 

"  Why,  is  it  too  good,  or  not  good  enough  ?  "  said 
Miss  Sophia. 

"  Too  good  !  A  great  deal  too  good  for  a  horse  I 
I  wouldn't  for  anything." 

"  How  would  Brandywine  do  then,  since  you  are 
so  patriotic  ? "  said  Miss  Sophia,  looking  amused. 

"  What  is  'patriotic  '  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  A  patriot,  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  smiling,  "  is  one 
who  has  a  strong  and  true  love  for  his  country." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  patriotic,"  said  Ellen, 
"but  I  won't  call  him  Brandywine.  Why,  Miss 
Sophia  !  " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  either,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey  ; 
— "  It  isn't  a  pretty  name.  Call  him  Seraphine  1 
— like  Miss  Angell's  pony — that's  pretty." 

"  No,  no, — '  Seraphine  !  '  nonsense  !  "  said  Miss 
Sophia  ; — "  call  him  Benedict  Arnold,  Ellen  ;  and 
then  it  will  be  a  relief  to  your  mind  to  whip  him." 

"  Whip  him  !  "  said  Ellen, — "  I  don't  want  to  whip 
him,  I  am  sure  ;  and  I  should  be  afraid  to,  besides." 

"  Hasn't  John  taught  you  that  lesson  yet  ? "  said 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  162 

the  young  lady  ; — "  he  is  perfect  in  it  himself.  Da 
you  remember,  Alice,  the  chastising  he  gave  that 
fine  black  horse  of  ours  we  called  the  '  Black 
Prince  '  ? — a  beautiful  creature  he  was, — more  than 
a  year  ago  ? — My  conscience  !  he  frightened  me  to 
death." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Alice  ;  "  I  remember  I  could 
not  look  on." 

"  What  did  he  do  that  for  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Ellen  Montgomery  ?  "  said 
Miss  Sophia,  laughing, — ■•  where  did  you  get  that 
long  face  ?     Are  you  thinking  of  John  or  the  horse  ?  " 

Ellen's  eye  turned  to  Alice. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  Alice,  smiling,  though 
she  spoke  seriously,  "  it  was  necessary ;  it  sometimes 
is  necessary  to  do  such  things.  You  do  not  sup- 
pose John  would  do  it  cruelly  or  unnecessarily  ? " 

Ellen's  face  shortened  considerably. 

"  But  what  had  the  horse  been  doing  ?  " 

"  He  had  not  been  doing  anything ;  he  would  not 
do, — that  was  the  trouble  ;  he  was  as  obstinate  as 
a  mule." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  Alice  ;  "  it  was  no  such 
rerrible  matter  as  Sophia's  words  have  made  you 
believe.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  obstinacy.  The 
horse  was  resolved  to  have  his  own  way  and  not 
do  what  his  rider  required  of  him  ;  it  was  necessary 
that  either  the  horse  or  the  man  should  give  up  ; 
and  as  John  has  no  fancy  for  giving  up,  he  carried 
his  point, — partly  by  management,  partly,  I  confess, 
by  judicious  use  of  the  whip  and  spur ;  but  there 
was  no  such  furious  flagellation  as  Sophia  seems  to 
mean,  and  which  a  good  horseman  would  scarce  be 
guilty  of." 


162  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  A  very  determined  J  use,'  "  said  Miss  Sophie 
*  I    advise  you,  Ellen,  not  to  trust  your  pony  with 
Mr.  John ;  he  will  have  no  mercy  on  him." 

'"Sophia  is  laughing,  Ellen,"  said  Alice.  "You 
and  I  know  John,  do  we  not  ? " 

"  Then  he  did  right  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Perfectly  right — except  in  mounting  the  horse 
at  all,  which  I  never  wished  him  to  do.  No  one. 
on  the  place  would  ride  him." 

"  He  carried  John  beautifully  all  the  day  after 
that,  though,"  said  Miss  Sophia,  "  and  I  dare  say  he 
might  have  ridden  him  to  the  end  of  the  chapter 
if  you  would  have  let  papa  give  him  to  him.  But 
he  was  of  no  use  to  anybody  else.  Howard  couldn't 
manage  him — I  suppose  he  was  too  lazy.  Papa 
was  delighted  enough  that  day  to  have  given  John 
anything.  And  I  can  tell  you  Black  Prince  the 
Second  is  spirited  enough  ;  I  am  afraid  you  won't 
like  him." 

"  John  has  a  present  of  a  horse  too,  Ellen,"  said 
Alice. 

"  Has  he  ? — from  Mr.  Marshman  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I'm  very  glad  !  Oh,  what  rides  we  can  take 
now,  can't  we,  Alice  ?  We  sha'n't  want  to  borrow 
Jenny's  pony  any  more.  What  kind  of  a  horse  is 
Mr.  John's  ? " 

"  Black, — perfectly  black." 

"  Is  he  handsome  ?  " 

"  Very." 

il  Is  his  name  Black  Prince  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Ellen  began  to  consider  the  possibility  of  calling 
h«r  pony  the  Brown  Princess,  or  by    some  similar 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  iG$ 

title — the  name  of  John's  two  chargers  seeming  the 
very  most  striking  a  horse  could  be  known  by. 

*'  Don't  forget,  Alice,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey,  "  to 
tell  John  to  stop  for  him  on  his  way  home.  It  will 
give  us  a  chance  of  seeing  him,  which  is  not  a  com- 
mon pleasure,  in  any  sense  of  the  term." 

They  went  back  to  the  subject  of  the  name,  which 
Ellen  pondered  with  uneasy  visions  of  John  and  her 
poor  pony  flitting  through  her  head.  The  little  horse 
was  very  hard  to  fit,  or  else  Ellen's  taste  was  very 
hard  to  suit ;  a  great  many  names  were  proposed, 
none  of  which  were  to  her  mind.  Charley,  and 
Cherry,  and  Brown,  and  Dash,  and  Jumper, — but 
she  said  they  had  "  John  "  and  "  Jenny  "  already 
in  Thirlwall,  and  she  didn't  want  a  "  Charley ; " 
"  Brown  "  was  not  pretty,  and  she  hoped  he  wouldn't 
"  dash  "  at  anything,  nor  be  a  "  jumper  "  when  she 
was  on  his  back.  Cherry  she  mused  awhile  about, 
but  it  wouldn't  do. 

"  Call  him  Fairy,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey  ;— "  that's 
a  pretty  name.  Mamma  says  she  used  to  have  a 
horse  called  Fairy.     Do,  Ellen  !  call  him  Fairy." 

"  No,"  said  Ellen  ;  "he  can't  have  a  lady's  name 
— that's  the  trouble." 

"  I  have  it,  Ellen  !  "  said  Alice  ; — "  I  have  a  name 
for  you, — call  him  the  Brownie." 

"  The  '  Brownie  '  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes — brownies  are  male  fairies  ;  and  brown  is 
his  color ;  so  how  will  that  do  ?  " 

It  was  soon  decided  that  it  would  do  very  well. 
It  was  simple,  descriptive,  and  not  common  ;  Ellen 
made  up  her  mind  that  "  The  Brownie  "  should  be 
his  name.  No  sooner  given,  it  began  to  grow  dear. 
Ellen's  face  quitted  its  look  of  anxious  gravity  and 


1 64  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

came  out  into  the  broadest  and  fullest  satisfaction* 
She  never  showed  joy  boisterously  ;  but  there  was  a 
light  in  her  eye  which  brought  many  a  smile  into 
those  of  her  friends  as  they  sat  round  the  tea-table. 

After  tea  it  was  necessary  to  go  home,  much  to 
the  sorrow  of  all  parties.  Ellen  knew,  however,  it 
would  not  do  to  stay  ;  Miss  Fortune  was  but  just 
got  well,  and  perhaps  already  thinking  herself  ill- 
used.     She  put  on  her  things. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  your  pony  home  with 
you  ?  "  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am,  not  to-night.  I  must  see  about 
a  place  for  him  ;  and  besides,  poor  fellow,  he  is 
tired,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  do  believe  you  would  take  more  care  of  his 
legs  than  of  your  own,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  But  you'll  be  here  to-morrow  early,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  won't  I !  "  exclaimed  Ellen,  as  she  sprang 
to  Alice's  neck ; — "  as  early  as  I  can,  at  least ;  I 
don't  know  when  Aunt  Fortune  will  have  done 
with  me." 

The  way  home  seemed  as  nothing.  If  she  was 
tired  she  did  not  know  it.  The  Brownie  !  the 
Brownie  ! — the  thought  of  him  carried  her  as  clev- 
erly over  the  ground  as  his  very  back  would  have 
done.     She  came  running  into  the  chip-yard. 

"  Hollo  !  "  cried  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  who  was  stand- 
ing under  the  apple  tree  cutting  a  piece  of  wood  for 
the  tongue  of  the  ox-cart,  which  had  been  broken, 
— I'm  glad  to  see  you  can  run.  I  was  afeared  you'd 
hardly  be  able  to  stand  by  this  time  ;  but  there 
you  come  like  a  young  deer  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Ellen,  coming  close 
up   to   him   and  speaking  in  an   undertone, — "  you 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  165 

.•don't  know  what  a  present  I  have  had  !  What  do 
you  think  Mr.  Marshman  has  sent  me  from  Vent- 
*nor  ? " 

"  Couldn't  guess,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  resting 
the  end  of  his  pole  on  the  log,  and  chipping  at  it 
with  his  hatchet ; — "  never  guessed  anything  in  my 
life ; — what  is  it  ? " 

"  He  has  sent  me  the  most  beautiful  little  horse 
you  ever  saw  ! — for  my  own — for  me  to  ride  ;  and 
a  new  beautiful  saddle  and  bridle  ;  you  never  saw 
.anything  so  beautiful,  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  he  is  all 
brown,  with  one  white  fore-foot,  and  I've  named 
him  the  '  Brownie ;  '  and  oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  do 
you  think  Aunt    Fortune  will  let  him  come  here  ? " 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  chipped  away  at  his  pole,  look- 
ing very  good-humored. 

"  Because,  you  know,  I  couldn't  have  half  the 
good  of  him  if  he  had  to  stay  away  from  me  up  on 
the  mountain.  I  shall  want  to  ride  him  every  day. 
Do  you  think  Aunt  Fortune  will  let  him  be  kept 
here,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"  I  guess  she  will,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  soberly, 
and  his  tone  said  to  Ellen,  "  /will,  if  she  don't." 

"  Then  will  you  ask  her  and  see  about  it  ? — if 
you  please,  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  I'd  rather  you  would. 
And  you  won't  have  him  put  to  plow  or  anything, 
will  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  Miss  Sophia  says  it 
would  spoil  him." 

"I'll  plow  myself,  first,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
with  his  half  smile  ; — "  there  sha'n't  be  a  hair  of 
his  coat  turned  the  wrong  way.  /'  7  see  to  him — 
as  if  he  was  a  prince." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  How 
good  you  are.     Then  I  shall  not  speak  about  him 


1 66  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

•it  all  till  you  do,  remember.     I  am  very  much  ob 
liged  to  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  " 

Ellen  ran  in.  She  got  a  chiding  for  her  long 
stay,  but  it  fell  upon  ears  that  could  not  hear. 
The  Brownie  came  like  a  shield  between  her  and 
all  trouble.  She  smiled  at  her  aunt's  hard  words 
as  if  they  had  been  sugar-plums.  And  her  sleep 
that  night  might  have  been  prairie  land,  for  the 
multitude  of  horses  of  all  sorts  that  chased  through 
it. 

"  Have  you  heerd  the  news  ? "  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  when  he  had  got  his  second  cup  of  coffee 
at  breakfast  next  morning. 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Fortune.     "  What  news  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  as  much  news  as  there  used  to  be 
when  I  was  young,"  said  the  old  lady; — "seems 
to  me  I  don't  hear  nothing  nowadays." 

"  You  might,  if  you'd  keep  your  ears  open, 
mother.      What  news,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"  Why,  here's  Ellen's  got  a  splendid  little  horse 
sent  her,  a  present  from  some  of  her  great  friends, 
— Mr.  Marshchalk " 

"  Mr.  Marshman,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Mr.  Marshman.  There  ain't  the  like  in  the 
country,  as  I've  heerd  tell ;  and  I  expect  next 
thing  she'll  be  flying  over  all  the  fields  and  fences 
like  smoke." 

There  was  a  meaning  silence.     Ellen's  heart  beat. 

"  What's  going  to  be  done  with  him,  do  you  sup- 
pose ? "  said  Miss  Fortune.  Her  look  said,  "  If 
you  think  I  am  coming  round  you  are  mistaken." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  slowly, — "  I 
s'pose  he'll  eat  grass  in  the  meadow, — and  there'll 
be  a  place  fixed  for  him  in  the  stables." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  167 

"  Not  in  my  stables,"  said  the  lady,  shortly. 

"  No, — in  mine,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  half  smil- 
ing ; — "  and  I'll  settle  with  you  about  it  by  and  by, 
— when  we  square  our  accounts." 

Miss  Fortune  was  very  much  vexed  ;  Ellen  could 
see  that ;  but  she  said  no  more,  good  or  bad,  about 
the  matter,  so  the  Brownie  was  allowed  to  take 
quiet  possession  of  meadow  and  stables,  to  hia 
mistress's  unbounded  joy. 

Anybody  that  knew  Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  have 
been  surprised  to  hear  what  he  said  that  morning ; 
for  he  was  thought  to  be  quite  as  keen  a  looker 
after  the  main  chance  as  Miss  Fortune  herself, 
only,  somehow,  it  was  never  laid  against  him  as  it 
was  against  her.  However  that  might  be,  it  was 
plain  he  took  pleasure  in  keeping  his  word  about 
the  pony.  Ellen  herself  could  not  have  asked 
more  careful  kindness  for  her  favorite  than  the 
Brownie  had  from  every  man  and  boy  about  the 
farm. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII, 

Thou  must  run  to  him  ;  for  thou  hast  stayed  so  long  that  going  will 
scarce  serve  the  turn. — Shakspeare. 

Captain  Montgomery  did  not  come  the  next 
week,  nor  the  week  after ;  and  what  is  more,  the 
Duck  Dorleens,  as  his  sister  called  the  ship  in 
which  he  had  taken  passage,  was  never  heard  of 
from  that  time.  She  sailed  duly  on  the  fifth  of 
April,  as  they  learnt  from  the  papers  ;  but  what- 
ever became  of  her  she  never  reached  port.  It  re- 
mained a  doubt  whether  Captain  Montgomery  had 
actually  gone  in  her ;  and  Ellen  had  many  weeks 
of  anxious  watching,  first  for  himself,  and  then  for 
news  of  him  in  case  he  were  still  in  France.     None 


1 68  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

ever  came.  Anxiety  gradually  faded  into  certaintyT 
and  by  midsummer  no  doubt  of  the  truth  remained 
in  any  mind.  If  Captain  Montgomery  had  been 
alive,  he  would  certainly  have  written,  if  not  be- 
fore, on  learning  the  fate  of  the  vessel  in  which  he 
had  told  his  friends  to  expect  him  home. 

Ellen  rather  felt  that  she  was  an  orphan  than 
that  she  had  lost  her  father.  She  had  neveE 
learned  to  love  him,  he  had  never  given  her  much 
cause.  Comparatively  a  small  portion  of  her  life 
had  been  passed  in  his  society,  and  she  looked 
back  to  it  as  the  least  agreeable  of  all  ;  and  it  had 
not  been  possible  for  her  to  expect  with  pleasure 
his  return  to  America  and  visit  to  Thirlwall ;  she 
dreaded  it.  Life  had  nothing  now  worse  for  her 
than  a  separation  from  Alice  and  John  Hum- 
phreys ;  she  feared  her  father  might  take  her  away 
and  put  her  in  some  dreadful  boarding-school,  or 
carry  her  about  the  world  wherever  he  went,  a 
wretched  wanderer  from  everything  good  and  pleas- 
ant. The  knowledge  of  his  death  had  less  pain 
for  her  than  the  removal  of  this  fear  brought  relief. 

Ellen  felt  sometimes,  soberly  and  sadly,  that  she 
was  thrown  upon  the  wide  world  now.  To  all  in- 
tents and  purposes,  so  she  had  been  a  year  and 
three  quarters  before  ;  but  it  was  something  to 
have  a  father  and  mother  living,  even  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  Now,  Miss  Fortune  was  her  sole 
guardian  and  owner.  However,  she  could  hardly 
realize  that,  with  Alice  and  John  so  near  at  hand. 
Without  reasoning  much  about  it,  she  felt  toler- 
ably secure  that  they  would  take  care  of  her  inter* 
ests,  and  make  good  their  claim  to  interfere  if  eve/ 
need  were. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  169 

Ellen  and  her  little  horse  grew  more  and  more 
fond  of  each  other.  This  friendship,  no  doubt, 
was  a  comfort  to  the  Brownie,  but  to  his  mistress 
it  made  a  large  part  of  the  pleasure  of  her  every- 
day life.  To  visit  him  was  her  delight,  at  all  hours, 
early  and  late  ;  and  it  is  to  the  Brownie's  credit 
that  he  always  seemed  as  glad  to  see  her  as  she 
was  to  see  him.  At  any  time  Ellen's  voice  would 
bring  him  from  the  far  end  of  the  meadow  where 
he  was  allowed  to  run.  He  would  come  trotting 
up  at  her  call,  and  stand  to  have  her  scratch  his 
forehead  or  pat  him  and  talk  to  him  ;  and,  though 
the  Brownie  could  not  answer  her  speeches,  he 
certainly  seemed  to  hear  them  with  pleasure.  Then 
throwing  up  his  head  he  would  bound  off,  take  a 
turn  in  the  field,  and  come  back  again  to  stand  as 
still  as  a  lamb  so  long  as  she  stayed  there  herself. 
Now  and  then,  when  she  had  a  little  more  time, 
she  would  cross  the  fence  and  take  a  walk  with 
him ;  and  there,  with  his  nose  just  at  her  elbow, 
wherever  she  went  the  Brownie  went  after  her. 
After  a  while  there  was  no  need  that  she  should 
call  him ;  if  he  saw  or  heard  her  at  a  distance  it 
was  enough ;  he  would  come  running  up  directly. 
Ellen  loved  him  dearly. 

She  gave  him  more  proof  of  it  than  words  and 
caresses.  Many  were  the  apples  and  scraps  of 
bread  hoarded  up  for  him  ;  and  if  these  failed, 
Ellen  sometimes  took  him  a  little  salt  to  show  that 
he  was  not  forgotten.  There  were  not,  certainly, 
many  scraps  left  at  Miss  Fortune's  table,  nor  apples 
to  be  had  at  home  for  such  a  purpose,  except  what 
she  gathered  up  from  the  poor  ones  that  were  left 
under  the  trees  for  the  hogs  ;  but  Ellen  had  other 


•  70  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

sources  of  supply.  Once  she  had  begged  from 
Jenny  Hitchcock  a  waste  bit  that  she  was  going  to 
throw  away ;  Jenny  found  what  she  wanted  to  do 
with  it,  and  after  that  many  a  basket  of  apples 
and  many  a  piece  of  cold  shortcake  was  set  by 
for  her.  Margery,  too,  remembered  the  Brownie 
when  disposing  of  her  odds  and  ends  ;  likewise 
did  Mrs.  Van  Brunt ;  so  that  among  them  all  Ellen 
seldom  wanted  something  to  give  him.  Mr.  Marsh- 
man  did  not  know  what  happiness  he  was  bestowing 
when  he  sent  her  that  little  horse.  Many,  many, 
were  the  hours  of  enjoyment  she  had  upon  his 
back.  Ellen  went  nowhere  but  upon  the  Brownie. 
Alice  made  her  a  riding-dress  of  dark  gingham  ; 
and  it  was  the  admiration  of  the  country  to  see  her 
trotting  or  cantering  by,  all  alone,  and  always  look- 
ing happy.  Ellen  soon  found  that  if  the  Brownie 
was  to  do  her  much  good  she  must  learn  to  saddle 
and  bridle  him  herself.  This  was  very  awkward  at 
first,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
showed  her  how  to  manage,  and  after  a  while  it 
became  quite  easy.  ShS  used  to  call  the  Brownie 
to  the  bar-place,  put  the  bridle  on,  and  let  him 
out ;  and  then  he  would  stand  motionless  before 
her  while  she  fastened  the  saddle  on,  looking  round 
sometimes  as  if  to  make  sure  that  it  was  she  herself, 
and  giving  a  little  kind  of  satisfied  neigh  when  he 
saw  that  it  was.  Ellen's  heart  began  to  dance  as 
soon  as  she  felt  him  moving  under  her  ;  and  once 
off  and  away  on  the  docile  and  spirited  little  animal, 
over  the  roads,  through  the  lanes,  up  and  down 
the  hills,  her  horse  her  only  companion,  but  having 
the  most  perfect  understanding  with  him,  both 
Ellen   and    the    Brownie   cast   care   to   the   winds. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  17, 

"  I  do  believe,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  "that  critter 
would  a  leetle  rather  have  Ellen  on  his  back  than 
not."  He  was  the  Brownie's  next  best  friend.  Miss 
Fortune  never  said  anything  to  him  or  of  him. 

Ellen,  however,  reaped  a  reward  for  her  faithful 
steadiness  to  duty  while  her  aunt  was  ill.  Things 
were  never  after  that  as  they  had  been  before.  She 
was  looked  on  with  a  different  eye.  To  be  sure, 
Miss  Fortune  tasked  her  as  much  as  ever,  spoke  as 
sharply,  was  as  ready  to  scold  if  anything  went 
wrong ; — all  that  was  just  as  it  used  to  be ;  but 
beneath  all  that,  Ellen  felt  with  great  satisfaction 
that  she  was  trusted  and  believed.  She  was  no 
longer  an  interloper,  in  everybody's  way  ;  she  was 
not  watched  and  suspected ;  her  aunt  treated  her 
as  one  of  the  family  and  a  person  to  be  depended 
on.  It  was  a  very  great  comfort  to  little  Ellen's 
life.  Miss  Fortune  even  owned  that  "  she  believed 
she  was  an  honest  child  and  meant  to  do  right," 
— a  great  deal  from  her  ;  Miss  Fortune  was  never 
over-forward  to  give  any  one  the  praise  of  honesiy. 
Ellen  now  went  out  and  came  in  without  feeling 
she  was  an  alien.  And  though  her  aunt  was 
always  bent  on  keeping  herself  and  everybody  else 
at  work,  she  did  not  now  show  any  particular 
desire  for  breaking  off  Ellen  from  her  studies,  and 
was  generally  willing,  when  the  work  was  pretty 
well  done  up,  that  she  should  saddle  the  Brownie 
and  be  off  to  Alice  or  Mrs.  Vawse. 

Though  Ellen  was  happy,  it  was  a  sober  kind 
of  happiness  ; — the  sun  shining  behind  a  cloud. 
And  if  others  thought  her  so,  it  was  not  because 
she  laughed  loudly  or  wore  a  merry  face. 

"I  can't  help  but  think,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, 


172  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  that  that  child  has  something  more  to  make  het 
happy  than  what  she  gets  in  this  world." 

There  was  a  quilting  party  gathered  that  after- 
noon at  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's  house. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  neighbor/'  said  Mrs.. 
Vawse  ;  "  nobody- ever  found  enough  here  to  make/ 
him  happy  yet." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  see  a  prettier  girl  than 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Lowndes  ; — "  you'll  never  catch. 
her,  working  at  home  or  riding  along  on  that  hand- 
some little  critter  of  her'n,  that  she  ha'n't  a  pleasant 
look  and  a  smile  for  you,  and  as  pretty-behaved  as, 
can  be.  I  never  see  her  look  sorrowful  but 
once." 

"  Ain't  that  a  pretty  horse  ?  "  said  Mirny  Lawsom. 

"  Pve  see  her  look  sorrowful  though,"  said  Sarah 
Lowndes  ;  "  I've  been  up  at  the  house  when  Miss 
Fortune  was  hustling  everybody  round,  and  as 
sharp  as  vinegar,  and  you'd  think  it  would  take 
Job's  patience  to  stand  it ; — and  for  all  there 
wouldn't  be  a  bit  of  crossness  in  that  child's  face, 
— she'd  go  round,  and  not  say  a  word  that  wasn't 
just  so  ;  you'd  ha'  thought  her  bread  was  all  spread 
with  honey  ;  and  everybody  knows  it  ain't.  I  don't 
see  how  she  could  do  it,  for  my  part.  I  know  1 
couldn't." 

"  Ah,  neighbor,"  said  Mrs.  Vawse,  "  Ellen  looks 
higher  than  to  please  her  aunt ;  she  tries  to  please 
her  God  ;  and  one  can  bear  people's  words  or  looks 
when  one  is  pleasing  Him. — wShe  is  a  dear  child  !  " 

"And  there's  'Brahm,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, — 
"  he  thinks  the  hull  world  of  her.  I  never  see  him 
take  so  to  any  one.  There  ain't  an  airthly  thing  he 
wouldn't    do  to   please  her.     If  she  was  his    own 


ME  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  173 

child  I've  no  idee  he  could  set  her  up  more  than  he 
does." 

"  Very  well !  "  said  Nancy,  coi.-.ng  up, — "  good 
reason  !  Ellen  don't  set  him  up  any,  does  she  ?  I 
wish  you'd  just  seen  her  once,  the  time  when  Miss 
Fortune  was  abed, — the  way  she'd  look  out  for  him  ! 
Mr.  Van  Brunt's  as  good  as  at  home  in  that  house, 
sure  enough,  whoever's  downstairs." 

"  Bless  her  dear  little  heart !  "  said  his  mother. 

"  A  good  name  is  better  than  precious  ointment." 

August  had  come,  and  John  was  daily  expected 
home.  One  morning  Miss  Fortune  was  in  the  lower 
kitchen,  up  to  the  elbows  in  making  a  rich  fall 
cheese ;  Ellen  was  busy  upstairs,  when  her  aunt 
shouted  to  her  to  "  come  and  see  what  was  all 
that  splashing  and  crashing  in  the  garden."  Ellen 
ran  out. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Fortune,"  said  she, — "Timothy  has 
broken  down  the  fence  and  got  in." 

"  Timothy  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune, — "  what  Tim- 
othy ? " 

"  Why,  Timothy,  the  near  ox,"  said  Ellen,  laugt 
ing  ; — "  he  has  knocked  down  the  fence  over  there 
where  it  was  low,  you  know." 

"  The  near  ox  !  "  said  Miss  Fortune, — "  I  wish 
he  warn't  quite  so  near  this  time.  Mercy  !  he'll  be 
at  the  corn  and  over  everything.  Run  and  drive 
him  into  the  barn-yard,  can't  you  ?  " 

But  Ellen  stood  still  and  shook  her  head.  "  He 
wouldn't  stir  for  me,"  she  said  ;  "  and  besides,  I 
am  as  afraid  of  that  ox  as  can  be.  If  it  was  Clover 
I  wouldn't  mind." 

"  But  he'll  have  every  bit  of  the  corn  eaten  up  in 
five  minutes  \     Where's  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 


174  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

*\  I  heard  him  say  he  was  going  home  till  noon," 
said  Ellen. 

"  And  Sam  Larkens  is  gone  to  the  mill — and 
Johnny  Low  is  laid  up  with  the  shakes.  Very  care- 
less of  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! "  said  Miss  Fortune,  draw- 
ing her  arms  out  of  the  cheese-tub  and  wringing  off 
the  whey, — "  I  wish  he'd  mind  his  own  oxen.  There 
was  no  business  to  be  a  low  place  in  the  fence ! 
Well,  come  along !  you  ain't  afraid  with  me,  I  sup- 
pose." 

Ellen  followed,  at  a  respectful  distance.  Miss 
Fortune  however  feared  the  face  of  neither  man  nor 
beast ;  she  pulled  up  a  bean  pole,  and  made  such 
a  show  of  fight  that  Timothy  after  looking  at  her  a 
little,  fairly  turned  tail,  and  marched  out  at  the 
breach  he  had  made.  Miss  Fortune  went  after, 
and  rested  not  till  she  had  driven  him  quite  into  the 
meadow  ; — get  him  into  the  barn-yard  she  could 
not. 

"  You  ain't  worth  a  straw,  Ellen  !  "  said  she,  when 
she  came  back  : — "  Couldn't  you  ha'  headed  him 
and  driv'  him  into  the  barn-yard  ?  Now  that 
plaguy  beast  will  just  be  back  again  by  the  time  I  get 
well  to  work.  He  ha'n't  done  much  mischief  yet 
— there's  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  salary  he's  made  a  pretty 
mess  of ;  I'm  glad  on't ;  He  should  ha'  put 
potatoes,  as  I  told  him.  I  don't  know  what's  to  be 
done — I  can't  be  leaving  my  cheese  to  run  and  mind 
the  garden  every  minute,  if  it  was  full  of  Timothys  : 
and  you'd  be  scared  if  a  mosquito  flew  at  you; — 
you  had  better  go  right  off  for  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and 
fetch  him  straight  home — serve  him  right !  he  has 
no  business  to  leave  things  so.  Run  along, — and 
don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your  feet! 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


75 


Ellen  wisely  thought  her  pony's  feet  would  do  the 
business  quicker.  She  ran  and  put  on  her  gingham 
dress  and  saddled  and  bridled  the  Brownie  in  three 
minutes ;  but  before  setting  off  she  had  to  scream 
to  her  aunt  that  Timothy  was  just  coming  round 
the  corner  of  the  barn  again  ;  and  Miss  Fortune 
rushed  out  to  the  garden  as  Ellen  and  the  Brownie 
walked  down  to  the  gate. 

The  weather  was  fine,  and  Ellen  thought  with  her- 
self it  was  an  ill  wind  that  blew  no  good.  She  was 
getting  a  nice  ride  in  the  early  morning,  that  she 
would  not  have  had  but  for  Timothy's  lawless  be- 
havior. To  ride  at  that  time  was  particularly  pleas- 
ant and  rare ;  and  forgetting  how  she  had  left  poor 
Miss  Fortune  between  the  ox  and  the  cheese  tub, 
Ellen  and  the  Brownie  cantered  on  in  excellent 
spirits. 

She  looked  in  vain  as  she  passed  his  grounds  to 
see  Mr.  Van  Brunt  in  the  garden  or  about  the  barn. 
She  went  on  to  the  little  gate  of  the  courtyard,  dis- 
mounted, and  led  the  Brownie  in.  Here  she  was 
met  by  Nancy,  who  came  running  from  the  way  of 
the  barn-yard. 

11  How  d'ye  do,  Nancy?  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  where's 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"  Goodness  !  Ellen  ! — what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  Mr.  Van  Brunt, — where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt ! — he's  out  in  the  barn, — but 
he's  used  himself  up." 

"  Used  himself  up  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  he's  fixed  himself  in  fine  style ; — he's  fell 
through  the  trap-door  and  broke  his  leg." 

"Oh,  Nancy!"  screamed  Ellen. — uV%~  S&an't  I 
How  could  he  ?  " 


176  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Why,  easy  enough,  if  he  didn't  look  where  he 
was  going, — there's  so  much  hay  on  the  floor.  But 
it's  a  pretty  bad  place  to  fall." 

"  How  do  you  know  his  leg  is  broken  ?  " 
"  'Cause  he  says  so,  and  anybody  with  eyes  can 
see  it  must  be.  I'm  going  over  to  Hitchcock's  to 
get  somebody  to  come  and  help  in  with  him  ;  for 
you  know  me  and  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  ain't  Sam- 
sons." 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  ? " 
"  She's  out  there — in  a  terrible  to-do." 
Nancy  sped  on  to  the  Hitchcocks' ;  and,  greatly 
frightened  and  distressed,  Ellen  ran  over  to  the 
barn,  trembling  like  an  aspen.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
was  lying  in  the  lower  floor,  just  where  he  had  fallen 
one  leg  doubled  under  him  in  such  a  way  as  left  no 
doubt  it  must  be  broken.  He  had  lain  there  some 
time  before  any  one  found  him  ;  and  on  trying  to 
change  his  position  when  he  saw  his  mother's  dis- 
tress, he  had  fainted  from  pain.  She  sat  by  weep- 
ing most  bitterly.  Ellen  could  bear  but  one  look 
at  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  that  one  sickened  her.  She 
went  up  to  his  poor  mother,  and  getting  down  on 
her  knees  by  her  side  put  both  arms  round  her 
neck. 

"Don't  cry  so,  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,"  (Ellen  was 
crying  so  she  could  hardly  speak  herself,) — "  pray 
don't  do  so ! — he'll  be  better — Oh,  what  shall 
we  do  ?  " 

'•  Oh,  ain't  it  dreadful  !  "  said  poor  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt  ; — "  Oh,  'Brahm,  'Brahm  !  my  son  ! — the  best 
son  that  ever  was  to  me — Oh,  to  see  him  there — 
ain't  it  dreadful  ?  he's  dying  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  he  isn't,"  said  Ellen, — "  Oh,  no,  he  isn't! 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  177 

—what  shall  we  do,  Mrs.  Van  Brunt  ? — what  shall 
we  do  ?  " 

"  The  doctor  !  "  said  Mrs.  Van  Brunt, — "  he 
said  '  send  for  the  doctor  ;  ' — but  I  can't  go,  and 
there's  nobody  to  send.  Oh,  he'll  die  ! — Oh,  my 
dear  'Brahm  !  I  wish  it  was  me  !  " 

"  What  doctor  ?  "  said  Ellen  ;— "  I'll  find  some- 
body to  go  ;  what  doctor  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Gibson,  he  said  ;  but  he's  away  off  to  Thirl- 
wall ;  and  he's  been  lying  here  all  the  morning 
a'ready  ; — nobody  found  him — he  couldn't  make  us 
hear.     Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  cry  so,  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brunt,"  said 
Ellen,  pressing  her  cheek  to  the  poor  old  lady's  ; — 
*.'  he'll  be  better — he  will !  I've  got  the  Brownie 
here,  and  I'll  ride  over  to  Mrs.  Hitchcock's  and  get 
somebody  to  go  right  away  for  the  doctor.  I  won't 
be  long, — we'll  have  him  him  here  in  a  little  while  ! 
don't  feel  so  bad  !  " 

"  You're  a  dear,  blessed  darling  ! "  said  the  old 
lady,  hugging  and  kissing  her, — "  if  ever  there  was 
one.  Make  haste,  dear,  if  you  love  him  ! — he  loves 
you." 

Ellen  stayed  but  to  give  her  another  kiss.  Trem- 
bling so  that  she  could  hardly  stand  she  made  her 
way  back  to  the  house,  led  out  the  Brownie  again, 
and  set  off,  full-speed,  for  Mrs.  Hitchcock's.  It  was 
well  her  pony  was  sure-footed,  for  letting  the  reins 
hang,  Ellen  bent  over  his  neck  crying  bitterly,  only 
urging  him  now  and  then  to  greater  speed  ;  till 
at  length  the  feeling  that  she  had  something  to 
<io  came  to  her  help.  She  straightened  herself, 
gathered  up  her  reins,  and  by  the  time  she  reached 
Mrs.  Hitchcock's  was  looking  calm  again,  though 
12 


iyS  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

very  sad  and  very  earnest.  She  did  not  alight,  but 
stopped  before  the  door  and  called  Jenny.  Jenny 
came  out,  expressing  her  pleasure. 

"  Dear  Jenny,"  said  Ellen, — "  isn't  there  some- 
body here  that  will  go  right  off  to  Thirlwall  for  Dr. 
Gibson  ?  Mr.  Van  Brunt  has  broken  his  leg,  I  am 
afraid,  and  wants  the  doctor  directly." 

"  Why,  dear  Ellen,"  said  Jenny,  "  the  men  have 
just  gone  off  this  minute  to  Mrs.  Van  Brunt's. 
Nancy  was  here  for  them  to  come  and  help  move 
him  in  a  great  hurry.  How  did  it  happen  ?  I 
couldn't  get  anything  out  of  Nancy." 

"He  fell  down  through  the  trap-door.  But,  dear 
Jenny,  isn't  there  anybody  about  ?  Oh,"  said  Ellen, 
clasping  her  hands, — "  I  want  somebody  to  go  for 
the  doctor  so  much  !  " 

"  There  ain't  a  living  soul  !  "  said  Jenny  ;  "  two 
of  the  men  and  all  the  teams  are  'way  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hill  plowing,  and  pa  and  June  and 
Black1  Bill  have  gone  over,  as  I  told  you  ;  but  I 
don't  believe  they'll  be  enough.  Where's  his  leg 
broke  ? " 

"  I  didn't  meet  them,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  came 
away  only  a  little  while  after  Nancy." 

"They  went  'cross  lots,  I  guess, — that's  how  it 
was  ;  and  that's  the  way  Nancy  got  the  start  of 
you." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Ellen.  She  could  not 
bear  to  wait  till  they  returned  ;  if  she  rode  back  she 
might  miss  them  again,  besides  the  delay  ;  and 
then  a  man  on  foot  would  make  a  long  journey  of 
it.  Jenny  told  her  of  a  house  or  two  where  she 
might  try  for  a  messenger  ;  but  they  were  strangers 
to  her  ;    she  could  not  make  up   her  mind  to  ask 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  179 

such  a  favor  of  them.  Her  friends  were  too  far 
out  of  the  way. 

"  I'll  go  myself !  "  she  said,  suddenly.  "  Tell 
'em,  dear  Jenny,  will  you,  that  I  have  gone  for  Dr. 
Gibson,  and  that  I'll  bring  him  back  as  quick  as 
ever  I  can.     I  know  the  road  to  Thirlwall." 

"  But  Ellen  !  you  mustn't,"  said  Jenny  ; — "  I  am 
afraid  to  have  you  go  all  that  way  alone.  Wait  till 
the  men  come  back, — they  won't  be  long." 

"  No,  I  can't,  Jenny,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  can't  wait  ; 
I  must  go.  You  needn't  be  afraid.  Tell  'em  I'll 
be  as  quick  as  I  can." 

"  But  see,  Ellen  ! "  cried  Jenny,  as  she  was 
moving  off, — "  I  don't  like  to  have  you." 

"  I  must,  Jenny.     Never  mind." 

"  But  see,  Ellen  !  "  cried  Jenny  again, — "  if  you 
will  go — if  you  don't  find  Dr.  Gibson  just  get  Dr. 
Marshchalk, — he's  every  bit  as  good  and  some 
folks  think  he's  better; — he'll  do  just  as  well. 
Good-bye ! " 

Ellen  nodded  and  rode  off.  There  was  a  little 
fluttering  of  the  heart  at  taking  so  much  upon  her- 
self;  she  had  never  been  to  Thirlwall  but  once 
since  the  first  time  she  saw  it.  But  she  thought  of 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  suffering  for  help  which  could  not 
be  obtained,  and  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  hesi- 
tate. "  I  am  sure  I  am  doing  right,"  she  thought, — 
"  and  what  is  there  to  be  afraid  of  ?  If  I  ride  two 
miles  alone,  why  shouldn't  I  four? — And  I  am 
doing  right — God  will  take  care  of  me."  Ellen 
earnestly  asked  Him  to  do  so  ;  and  after  that  she 
felt  pretty  easy.  "  Now,  dear  Brownie,"  said  she, 
patting  his  neck, — "  you  and  I  have  work  to  do 
to-day ;  behave  like  a  good  little  horse  as  you  are." 


l8o  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

The  Brownie  answered  with  a  little  cheerful  kind 
of  neigh,  as  much  as  to  say,  Never  fear  me  ! — 
They  trotted  on  nicely. 

But  nothing  could  help  that's  being  a  disagree- 
able ride.  Do  what  she  would,  Ellen  felt  a  little 
afraid  when  she  found  herself  on  a  long  piece  of 
road  where  she  had  never  been  alone  before. 
There  were  not  many  houses  on  the  way  ;  the  few 
there  were  looked  strange  ;  Ellen  did  not  know 
exactly  where  she  was,  or  how  near  the  end  of  her 
journey ;  it  seemed  a  long  one.  She  felt  rather 
lonely ; — a  little  shy  of  meeting  people,  and  yet  a 
little  unwilling  to  have  the  intervals  between  them 
so  very  long.  She  repeated  to  herself,  "  I  am  doing 
right — God  will  take  care  of  me," — still  there  was 
a  nervous  trembling  at  heart.  Sometimes  she 
would  pat  her  pony's  neck  and  say,  "  Trot  on,  dear 
Brownie  !  we'll  soon  be  there  !  " — by  way  of  cheer- 
ing herself ;  for  certainly  the  Brownie  needed  no 
cheering,  and  was  trotting  on  bravely.  Then  the 
thought  of  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  as  she  had  seen  him 
lying  on  the  barn  floor,  made  her  feel  sick  and 
miserable  ;  many  tears  fell  during  her  ride  when 
she  remembered  him.  "  Heaven  will  be  a  good 
place,"  thought  little  Ellen  as  she  went ;  "  there 
will  be  no  sickness,  no  pain,  no  sorrow ;  but  Mr. 
Van  Brunt ! — I  wonder  if  he  is  fit  to  go  to  Heaven  ?  " 
— This  was  a  new  matter  of  thought  and  uneasiness, 
not  now  for  the  first  time  in  Ellen's  mind  ;  and  so 
the  time  passed  till  she  crossed  the  bridge  over 
the  little  river  and  saw  the  houses  of  Thirlwall 
stretching  away  in  the  distance.  Then  she  felt 
comfortable. 

Long  before,  she  had  bethought  her  thai  she  did 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  181, 

not  know  where  to  find  Dr.  Gibson,  and  had  for- 
gotten to  ask  Jenny.  For  one  instant  Ellen  drew 
bridle,  but  it  was  too  far  to  go  back,  and  she  rec- 
ollected anybody  could  tell  her  where  the  doctor 
lived.  When  she  got  to  Thirlwall,  however,  Ellen 
found  that  she  did  not  like  to  ask  anybody ;  she 
remembered  her  old  friend  Mrs.  Forbes  of  the  Star 
Inn,  and  resolved  she  would  go  there  in  the  first 
place.  She  rode  slowly  up  the  street,  looking 
carefully  till  she  came  to  the  house.  There  was 
no  mistaking  it ;  there  was  the  very  same  big  star 
over  the  front  door  that  had  caught  her  eye  from 
the  coach-window,  and  there  was  the  very  same 
boy  or  man,  Sam,  lounging  on  the  sidewalk. 
Ellen  reined  up  and  asked  him  to  ask  Mrs.  Forbes 
if  she  would  be  so  good  as  to  come  out  to  her 
for  one  minute.  Sam  gave  her  a  long  Yankee  look 
and  disappeared,  coming  back  again  directly  with 
the  landlady. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Forbes  ? "  said  Ellen, 
holding  out  her  hand  ; — "  don't  you  know  me  ?  I 
am  Ellen  Montgomery — that  you  were  so  kind  to, 
and  gave  me  bread  and  milk, — when  I  first  came 
here, — Miss  Fortune's " 

"  Oh,  bless  your  dear  little  heart,"  cried  the 
landlady;  "don't  I  know  you  !  and  ain't  I  glad  to 
see  you  !  I  must  have  a  kiss.  Bless  you  !  I 
couldn't  mistake  you  in  Jerusalem,  but  the  sun  was 
in  my  eyes  in  that  way  I  was  a'most  blind.  But 
ain't  you  grown  though  !  Forget  you  ?  I  guess 
I  ha'n't  !  There's  one  o'  your  friends  wouldn't  let 
me  do  that  in  a  hurry  ;  if  I  ha'n't  seen  you  I've 
heerd  on  you.  But  what  are  you  sitting  there  in 
the  sun  for  ?     Come  in — come  in — and  I'll  give  you 


t&2  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

something  better  than  bread  and  milk  this  time 
Come !  jump  down." 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  Mrs.  Forbes,"  said  Ellen,—"  I  am 
in  a  great  hurry  ; — Mr.  Van  Brunt  has  broken  his 
leg,  and  I  want  to  find  the  doctor." 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  "  cried  the  landlady.  "  Broken 
his  leg  !  The  land  sakes !  how  did  he  do  that  ? 
—he  too  ! " 

"  He  fell  down  through  the  trap-door  in  the 
barn ;  and  I  want  to  get  Dr.  Gibson  as  soon  as  I 
can  to  come  to  him.  Where  does  he  live,  Mrs. 
Forbes  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Gibson  ? — you  won't  catch  him  to  hum, 
dear ;  he's  flying  around  somewheres.  But  how 
come  the  trap-door  to  be  open  ?  and  how  happened 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  not  to  see  it  afore  he  put  his  foot 
in  it  ?  Dear !  I  declare  I'm  real  sorry  to  hear  you 
tell.  How  happened  it,  darlin'  ?  I'm  cur'ous  to 
hear." 

"  I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Forbes,"  said  Ellen, — 
"  but,  oh,  where  shall  I  find  Dr.  Gibson  ?  Do  tell 
me  ! — he  ought  to  be  there  now  ; — oh,  help  me  ! 
where  shall  I  go  for  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  said  the  landlady,  stepping 
back  a  pace, — "  I  don'  know  as  I  can  tell — there 
ain't  no  sort  o'  likelihood  that  he's  to  hum  at  this 
time  o'  day. — Sam  !  you  lazy  feller,  you  ha'n't  got 
nothing  to  do  but  to  gape  at  folks,  ha'  you  seen  the 
doctor  go  by  this  forenoon  ?  " 

"  I  seen  him  go  down  to  Miss'  Perriman's,"  said 
Sam — "  Miss'  Perriman  was  a  dyin' — Jim  Barsto* 
said." 

"  How  long  since  ? "  said  his  mistress. 

But   Sam  shuffled   and   shuffled,    looked   every 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  183 

way  but  at  Ellen  or  Mrs.  Forbes,  and  "  didn' 
know."  3 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes,  turning  to 
Ellen,  "  I  don'  know  but  you  might  about  as  well 
go  down  to  the  post-office — but  if  I  was  you,  I'd 
just  get  Dr.  Marshchalk  instead  i  he's  a  smarter 
man  than  Dr.  Gibson  any  day  in  the  year ;  and  he 
ain't  quite  so  awful  high,  neither,  and  that's  some- 
thing. Td  get  Dr.  Marshchalk ;  they  say  there 
ain't  the  like  o'  him  in  the  country  for  settin' 
bones ;  it's  quite  a  gift ; — he  takes  to  it  natural 
like." 

But  Ellen  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  wanted  Dr.  Gibson, 
and  if  she  could  she  must  find  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes,  "  every  one  has  theh 
fancies; — /wouldn't  let  Dr.  Gibson  come  near  me 
with  a  pair  of  tongs  ; — but  anyhow,  if  you  must 
have  him,  your  best  way  is  to  go  right  straight 
down  to  the  post-office  and  ask  for  him  there. — 
Maybe  you'll  catch  him." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen; — "where  is 
the  post-office  ? " 

"  It's  that  white-faced  house  down  street,"  said 
the  landlady,  pointing  with  her  finger  where  Ellen 
saw  no  lack  of  white-faced  houses, — "  you  see  that 
big  red  store  with  the  man  standing  out  in  front  ? 
— the  next  white  house  below  that  is  Miss  Perri- 
man's ;  just  run  right  in  and  ask  for  Dr.  Gibson. 
Good-bye,  dear, — I'm  real  sorry  you  can't  come  in.; 
— that  first  white  house." 

Glad  to  get  free,  Ellen  rode  smartly  down  to  the 
post-office.  Nobody  before  the  door  ■  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  get  off  here  and  go  in ;  she 
did  not  know  the  people  either.     "  Never  mind  J 


484  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD, 

Wait  for  me  a  minute,  dear  Brownie,  like  a  good 
little  horse  as  you  are  ! " 

No  fear  of  the  Brownie.  He  stood  as  if  he  did 
not  mean  to  budge  again  in  a  century.  At  first  going 
in  Ellen  saw  nobody  in  the  post-office  ;  presently, 
at  an  opening  in  a  kind  of  boxed-up  place  in  one 
corner,  a  face  looked  out  and  asked  what  she 
wanted. 

"  Is  Dr.  Gibson  here  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  owner  of  the  face,  with  a  dis- 
agreeable kind  of  smile. 

"  Isn't  this  Miss  Perriman's  house?  " 

"  You  are  in  the  right  box,  my  dear,  and  no 
mistake,"  said  the  young  man, — "but  then  it  ain't 
Dr.  Gibson's  house,  you  know." 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  where  I  can  find  him  ? " 

"  Can't  indeed — the  doctor  never  tells  me  where 
he  is  going,  and  I  never  ask  him.  I  am  sorry  I 
didn't  this  morning,  for  your  sake." 

The  way,  and  the  look,  made  the  words  extremely 
disagreeable,  and  furthermore  Ellen  had  an  uncom- 
fortable feeling  that  neither  was  new  to  her.  Where 
*had  she  seen  the  man  before  ?  she  puzzled  herself 
to  think.  Where  but  in  a  dream  had  she  seen  that 
bold,  ill-favored  face,  that  horrible  smile,  that  sandy 
hair  ? — She  knew  !  It  was  Mr.  Saunders,  the  man 
who  had  sold  her  the  merino  at  St.  Clair  and 
Fleury's.  She  knew  him  ;  and  she  was  very  sorry 
to  see  that  he  knew  her,  All  she  desired  now  was 
to  get  out  of  the  house  and  away  ;  but  on  turning 
she  saw  another  man,  older  and  respectable-looking, 
whose  face  encouraged  her  to  ask  again  if  Dr. 
•Gibson  was  there.  He  was  not,  the  man  said  :  he 
had  been  there  and  gone. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  185 

"  Do  you  know  where  I  should  be  likely  to  find 
him,  sir  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  he  ; — "  who  wants  him  ? " 

"  I  want  to  see  him,  sir." 

"  For  yourself  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt  has  broken  his  leg  and 
wants  Dr.  Gibson  to  come  directly  and  set  it." 

"  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  "  said  he, — "  Farmer  Van- 
Brunt  that  lives  down  towards  the  Cat's  Back  ? 
I'm  very  sorry !     How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

Ellen  told  as  shortly  as  possible,  and  again  begged 
to  know  where  she  might  look  for  Dr.  Gibson. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  the  best  plan  I  can  think  of 
will  be  for  you How  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  on  horseback,  sir." 

"  Ah — well — the  best  plan  will  be  for  you  to  ride 
up  to  his  house  ;  maybe  he'll  have  left  word  there, 
and  anyhow  you  can  leave  word  for  him  to  come 
down  as  soon  as  he  gets  home.  Do  you  know 
where  the  doctor  lives  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Come  here,"  said  he,  pulling  her  to  the  door, 
— "  you  can't  see  it  from  here  ;  but  you  must  ride 
up  street  till  you  have  passed  two  churches  :  one  on. 
the  right  hand  first,  and  then  a  good  piece  beyond 
you'll  come  to  another  red  brick  one  on  the  left 
hand  ;  and  Dr.  Gibson  lives  in  the  next  block  bat 
one  after  that  on  the  other  side  ; — anybody  will  tell 
you  the  house.     Is  that  your  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Well,  I  will  say  ! — if  you  ha'n'tthe  prettiest  fit- 
out  in  Thirlwall — shall  I  help  you  ? — will  you  have 
a  cheer  ? " 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  sir;   I'll   bring  him  up  to  this' 


1 86  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

step ,;  it  will  do  just  as  well.  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,  sir." 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  thanks  ;  he  was  all 
eyes ;  and  with  his  clerk  stood  looking  after  her 
till  she  was  out  of  sight. 

Poor  Ellen  found  it  a  long  way  up  to  the  doctor's. 
The  post-office  was  near  the  lower  end  of  the  town 
and  the  doctor's  house  was  near  the  upper  ;  she 
passed  one  church,  and  then  the  other,  but  there 
was  a  long  distance  between,  or  what  she  thought 
so.  Happily  the  Brownie  did  not  seem  tired  at  all ; 
his  little  mistress  was  tired,  and  disheartened  too. 
And  there,  all  this  time,  was  poor  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
lying  without  a  doctor !  She  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  it. 

She  jumped  down  when  she  came  to  the  block 
she  had  been  told  of,  and  easily  found  the  house 
where  Dr.  Gibson  lived.  She  knocked  at  the  door. 
A  gray-haired  woman  with  a  very  dead-and-alive 
face  presented  herself.     Ellen  asked  for  the  doctor. 

"  He  ain't  to  hum." 

"  When  will  he  be  at  home  ?" 

"  Couldn't  say." 

"  Before  dinner  ?  " 

The  woman  shook  her  head. — "  Guess  not  till 
late  in  the  day." 

"  Where  is  he  gone  ?  " 

"  He  is  gone  to  Babcock — gone  to  *  attend  a 
consummation,'  I  guess  he  told  me. — Babcock  is  a 
considerable  long  way." 

Ellen  thought  a  minute. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Dr.  Marshchalk  lives  ?  " 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  wait  till  Dr.  Gibson  comes 
back,  ha'n't  you  ?  "  said   the  woman,  coaxingly  ;— « 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  187 

"  he'll  be  along  by  and  by.  If  you'll  leave  me 
your  name  I'll  give  it  to  him." 

"  I  cannot  wait,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  am  in  a  dread- 
ful hurry.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  where 
Dr.  Marshchalk  lives  ?  " 

"  Well — if  so  be  you're  in  such  a  takin'  you 
can't  wait — you  know  where  Miss  Forbes  lives  ? " 

"  At  the  inn  ?— the  Star  ?— yes." 

"  He  lives  a  few  doors  this  side  o'  her'n ;  you'll 
know  it  the  first  minute  you  set  your  eyes  on  it — 
it's  painted  a  bright  yaller." 

Ellen  thanked  her,  once  more  mounted,  and  rode 
down  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

And  he  had  ridden  o'er  dale  and  down 

By  eight  o'  clock  in  the  day, 
When  he  was  ware  of  a  bold  Tanner, 

Came  riding  along  the  way. 

Old  Ballad. 

The  yellow  door,  as  the  old  woman  had  said, 
was  not  to  be  mistaken.  Again  Ellen  dismounted 
and  knocked  ;  then  she  heard  a  slow  step  coming, 
along  the  entry,  and  the  pleasant  kind  face  of  Miss 
Janet  appeared  at  the  open  door.  It  was  a  real 
refreshment,  and  Ellen  wanted  one. 

"  Why,  it's  dear  little — ain't  it  ? — her  that  lives 
down  to  Miss  Fortune  Emerson's  ? — yes,  it  is  ; — 
come  in,  dear ;  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.  How's 
all  at  your  house  ?  " 

"  Is  the  doctor  at  home,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  he  ain't  to  home  just  this  minute, 
but  he'll  be  in  directly.  Come  in  ; — is  that  your 
horse  ? — just  hitch  him  to  the  post  there    so   he 


1 88  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

won't  run  away,  and  come  right  in.  Who  did  yon 
come  along  with  ?  " 

"  Nobody,  ma'am  ;  I  came  alone,"  said  Ellen, 
while  she  obeyed  Miss  Janet's  directions. 

"  Alone  ! — on  that  'ere  little  skittish  creeter  ? — 
he's  as  handsome  as  a  picture  too — why,  do  tell  if 
you  warn't  afraid  ?  it  a'most  scares  me  to  think  of 
it." 

"  I  was  a  little  afraid,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  fol- 
lowed Miss  Janet  along  the  entry, — "  but  I  couldn't 
help  that.  You  think  the  doctor  will  soon  be  in, 
ma'am  ? " 

"  Yes,  dear,  sure  of  it,"  said  Miss  Janet,  kissing 
Ellen  and  taking  off  her  bonnet ; — "  he  won't  be 
.five  minutes,  for  it's  a'most  dinner  time.  What's 
the  matter,  dear  ?  is  Miss  Fortune  sick  again  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  sadly, — "  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  has  fallen  through  the  trap-door  in  the  barn 
and  broken  his  leg." 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  the  old  lady,  with  a  face  of  real 
horror, — "  you  don't  tell  me  !  Fell  through  the 
trap-door !  .and  he  ain't  a  light  weight  neither  ; — 
oh,  that  is  a  lamentable  event !  And  how  is  the 
poor  old  mother,  dear  ?  " 

"  She  is  very  much  troubled,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, 
crying  at  the  remembrance  ; — "and  he  has  been 
lying  ever  since  early  this  morning  without  any- 
body to  set  it ;  I  have  been  going  round  and 
round  for  a  doctor  this  ever  so  long." 

"  Why,  warn't  there  nobody  to  come  but  you, 
you  poor  lamb  ?  "   said  Miss  Janet. 

"No,  ma'am  :  nobody  quick  enough  ;  and  I  had 
the  Brownie  there,  and  so  I  came." 

"  Well,  cheer  up,  dear  !  the  doctor  will  be  here 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  189 

now  and  we'll  send  him  right  off ;  he  won't  be 
long  about  his  dinner,  I'll  engage.  Come  and  set 
in  this  big  cheer — do  ! — it'll  rest  you  ;  I  see  you're 
a'most  tired  out,  and  it  ain't  a  wonder.  There — ■ 
don't  that  feel  better  ?  Now  I'll  give  you  a  little 
sup  of  dinner,  for  you  won't  want  to  swallow  it  at 
the  rate  Leander  will  his'n.  Dear  !  dear  ! — to 
think  of  poor  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  He's  a  likely  man 
too  ; — I'm  very  sorry  for  him  and  his  poor  mother. 
A  kind  body  she  is  as  ever  the  sun  shined  upon." 

"  And  so  is  he,"  said  Ellen. 

"Well,  so  I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Janet, — "but  I 
don't  know  so  much  about  him  ;  howsever,  he's  got 
everybody's  good  word  as  far  as  I  know  ; — he's  a 
likely  man." 

The  little  room  into  which  Miss  Janet  had 
brought  Ellen  was  very  plainly  furnished  indeed, 
but  as  neat  as  hands  could  make  it.  The  carpet 
was  as  crumbless  and  lintless  as  if  meals  were 
never  taken  there  nor  work  seen  ;  and  yet  a  little 
table  ready  set  for  dinner  forbade  the  one  conclu- 
sion, and  a  huge  basket  of  nakeries  in  one  corner 
showed  that  Miss  Janet's  industry  did  not  spend 
itself  in  housework  alone.  Before  the  fire  stood 
a  pretty  good-sized  kettle,  and  a  very  appetizing 
smell  came  from  it  to  Ellen's  nose.  In  spite  of 
sorrow  and  anxiety  her  ride  had  made  her  hiingry. 
It  was  not  without  pleasure  that  she  saw  her  kind 
hostess  arm  herself  with  a  deep  plate  and  tin  dip- 
per, and  carefully  taking  off  the  pot-cover  so  that 
no  drops  might  fall  on  the  hearth,  proceed  to  ladle 
out  a  goodly  supply  of  what  Ellen  knew  was  that 
excellent  country  dish  called  pot-pie.  Excellent 
it  is  when  well  made,  and  that  was  Miss  Janet's. 


190       .  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

The  pieces  of  crust  were  white  and  light  like  ne* 
bread  ;  the  very  tit-bits  of  the  meat  she  culled  out 
for  Ellen ;  and  the  soup-gravy  poured  over  all 
would  have  met  eve^  Miss  Fortune's  wishes,  from 
its  just  degre  of  richness  and  exact  seasoning. 
Smoking  hot  it  was  placed  before  Ellen  n  a  little 
stand  by  her  easy-chair,  with  some  nic  bread  and 
butter ,  and  presently  Miss  Janet  poured  her  out 
a  cup  of  tea,  "  for,"  she  said,  "  Leander  never  could 
take  his  dinner  without  it."  Ellen's  appetite  need- 
ed no  silver  fork.  Tea  and  pot-pie  were  never 
better  liked  ;  yet  Miss  Janet's  enjoyment  was  per- 
haps greater  still.  She  sat  talking  and  looking 
at  her  little  visitor  with  secret  but  immense  satis- 
faction. 

"  Have  you  heard  what  fine  doings  we're  agoing 
to  have  here  by  and  by  ?  "  said  she.  "  The  doc- 
tor's tired  of  me  :  he's  going  to  get  a  new  house- 
keeper ; — he's  going  to  get  married  some  of  these 
days." 

"  Is  he  !  "  said  Ellen.     "  Not  to  Jenny  !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  is — to  Jenny — Jenny  Hitch- 
cock ;  and  a  nice  little  wife  she'll  make  him. 
You're  a  great  friend  of  Jenny,  I  know." 

"  How  soon  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  not  just  yet — by  and  by — after  we  get  a 
little  smarted  up,  I  guess  ; — before  a  great  while. 
Don't  you  think  he'll  be  a  happy  man  ?  " 

Ellen  could  not  help  wondering,  as  the  doctor 
just  then  came  in  and  she  looked  up  at  his  unfor- 
tunate three-cornered  face,  whether  Jenny  would 
be  a  happy  woman  ?  But  as  people  often  do,  she 
judged  only  from  the  outside;  Jenny  had  not  made 
such  a  bad  choice  after  all. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.       ,         191 

The  doctor  said  he  would  go  directly  to  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  after  he  had  been  over  to  Mrs.  Sib- 
north's  ;  it  wouldn't  be  a  minute.  Ellen  meant  to 
ride  back  in  his  company  ;  and  having  finished  her 
dinner  waited  now  only  for  him.  But  the  one 
minute  passed — two  minutes — ten — twenty — she 
waited  impatiently,  but  he  came  not. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  must  be,"  said  his  sister, — 
"  he's  gone  off  without  his  dinner,  calculating  to  get 
it  at  Miss  Hitchcock's, — he'd  be  glad  of  the  chance. 
That's  how  it  is,  dear ;  and  you'll  have  to  ride 
home  alone  ;  I'm  real  sorry.  S'pose  you  stop  till 
evening,  and  I'll  make  the  doctor  go  along  with 
you.  But,  oh  dear  !  maybe  he  wouldn't  be  able  to 
neither ;  he's  got  to  go  up  to  that  tiresome  Mrs. 
Robin's ;  it's  too  bad.  Well,  take  good  care  of 
yourself,  darling  ; — couldn't  you  stop  till  it's  cooler  ; 
— well,  come  and  see  me  as  soon  as  you  can  again, 
but  don't  come  without  some  one  else  along  ! 
Good-bye  !     I  wish  I  could  keep  you." 

She  went  to  the  door  to  see  her  mount,  and 
smiled  and  nodded  her  off. 

Ellen  was  greatly  refreshed  with  her  rest  and 
her  dinner ;  it  grieved  her  that  the  Brownie  had  not 
fared  as  well.  All  the  refreshment  that  kind  words 
and  patting  could  give  him,  she  gave ;  promised 
him  the  freshest  of  water  and  the  sweetest  of  hay 
when  he  should  reach  home  ;  and  begged  him  to 
keep  up  his  spirits  and  hold  on  for  a  little  longer. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  Prownie  under- 
stood the  full  sense  of  her  words,  but  he  probably 
knew  what  the  kind  tones  and  gentle  hand  meant. 
He  answered  cheerfully ;  threw  up  his  head  and 
gave  a  little  neigh,  as  much  as  to  say  he  wasn't  go 


192  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

ing  to  mind  a  few  hours  of  sunshine  ;  and  trotted 
on  as  if  he  knew  his  face  was  towards  home, — 
which  no  doubt  he  did.  Luckily  it  was  not  a  very 
hot  day ;  for  August,  it  was  remarkably  cool  and 
beautiful ;  indeed  there  was  little  very  hot  weather 
ever  known  in  Thirlwall.  Ellen's  heart  felt  easier, 
now  that  her  business  was  done  !  and  when  she 
had  left  the  town  behind  her  and  was  again  in  the 
fields,  she  was  less  timid  than  she  had  been  be- 
fore ;  she  was  going  towards  home  ;  that  makes  a 
great  difference ;  and  every  step  was  bringing  her 
nearer.  "  I  am  glad  I  came,  after  all,"  she  thought ; 
— "  but  I  hope  I  shall  never  have  to  do  such  a 
thing  again.     But  I  am  glad  I  came." 

She  had  no  more  than  crossed  the  little  bridge, 
however,  when  she  saw  what  brought  her  heart 
into  her  mouth.  It  was  Mr.  Saunders,  lolling 
under  a  tree.  What  could  he  have  come  there  for 
at  that  time  of  day  ?  A  vague  feeling  crossed  her 
mind  that  if  she  could  only  get  past  him  she  should 
pass  a  danger;  she  thought  to  ride  by  without 
seeming  to  see  him,  and  quietly  gave  the  Brownie 
a  pat  to  make  him  go  faster.  But  as  she  drew 
near  Mr.  Saunders  rose  up,  came  to  the  middle  of 
the  road,  and  taking  hold  of  her  bridle  checked 
her  pony's  pace  so  that  he  could  walk  alongside  ; 
to  Ellen's  unspeakable  dismay. 

"  What's  kept  you  so  long  ?  "  said  he ; — "  I've 
been  looking  out  for  you  this  great  while.  Had 
hard  work  to  r::?A  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Won't  you  please  to  let  go  of  my  horse,"  said 
Ellen,  her  heart  beating  very  fast; — "I  am  in  a 
great  hurry  to  get  home  ; — please  don't  keep  me." 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  see  you  a  little,"  said  Mr.  Saunders; 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  193 

■ — "  you  ain't  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  away  from  me 
as  that  comes  to,  are  you  ?  " 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  It's  quite  a  long  time  since  I  saw  you  last/' 
said  he  ; — "  how  have  the  merinos  worn  \  " 

Ellen  could  not  bear  to  look  at  his  face  and  did 
not  see  the  expression  which  went  with  these  words, 
yet  she  felt  it. 

"They  have  worn  very  well,"  said  she,  "but  I 
want  to  get  home  very  much — please  let  me  go." 

"  Not  yet — not  yet,"  said  he, — "  Oh,  no,  not  yet, 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  ;  why,  what  are  you  in  such  a 
devil  of  a  hurry  for  ?  I  came  out  on  purpose  ;  do 
you  think  I  am  going  to  have  all  my  long  waiting 
for  nothing  ? " 

Ellen  did  not  know  what  to  say ;  her  heart  sprang 
with  a  nameless  pang  to  the  thought,  if  she  ever  got 
free  from  this  !     Meanwhile  she  was  not  free.. 

"  Whose  horse  is  that  you're  on  ?  " 

"  Mine,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Your'n  !  that's  a  likely  story.  I  guess  he  ain't 
your'n  and  so  you  won't  mind  if  I  touch  him  up  a 
little; — I  want  to  see  how  well  you  can  sit  a 
horse." 

Passing  his  arm  through  the  bridle  as  he  said 
these  words,  Mr.  Saunders  led  the  pony  down  to 
the  side  of  the  road,  where  grew  a  clump  of  high 
bushes  ;  and  with  some  trouble  cut  off  a  long,  stout 
sapling.  Ellen  looked  in  every  direction  while  he 
was  doing  this,  despairing,  as  she  locked,  of  aid 
from  any  quarter  of  the  broad,  quiet,  open  country. 
Oh,  for  wings  !  But  she  could  not  leave  the  Brownie 
if  she  had  them. 

Returning  to  the  middle  of  the  road,  Mr;  Saunders 
13 


194  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

amused  himself  as  they  walked  along  with  stripping 
off  all  the  leaves  and  little  twigs  from  his  sapling, 
leaving  it  when  done  a  very  good  imitation  of  an 
ox-whip  in  size  and  length,  with  a  fine  lash-like 
point.  Ellen  watched  him  in  an  ecstasy  of  ap- 
prehension, afraid  alike  to  speak  or  to  be  silent 

"  There  !  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? "  said  he, 
giving  it  two  or  three  switches  in  the  air  to  try  its 
suppleness  and  toughness  ; — "  don't  that  look  like 
a  whip  ?     Now  we'll  see  how  he'll  go  !  " 

"  Please  don't  do  anything  with  it,"  said  Ellen, 
earnestly  £ — "  I  never  touch  him  with  a  whip, — he 
doesn't  need  it, — he  isn't  used  to  it ;  pray,  pray 
do  not ! " 

"  Oh,  we'll  just  tickle  him  a  little  with  it,"  said 
Mr.  Saunders,  coolly, — "  I  want  to  see  how  well 
you'll  sit  him  ; — just  make  him  caper  a  little  bit." 

He  accordingly  applied  the  switch  lightly  to  the 
Brownie's  heels,  enough  to  annoy  without  hurting 
him.  The  Brownie  showed  signs  of  uneasiness, 
quitted  his  quiet  pace,  and  took  to  little  starts  and 
springs  and  other  motions,  most  unpleasing  to  his 
rider. 

"  Oh,  do  not !  "  cried  Ellen,  almost  beside  her- 
self,— "  he's  very  spirited,  and  I  don't  know  what  he 
will  do  if  you  trouble  him." 

"  You  let  me  take  care  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Saun- 
ders; — "if  he  troubles  me  I'll  give  it  to  him!  If 
he  rears  up,  only  you  catch  hold  of  his  mane  and 
hold  on  tight,  and  you  won't  fall  off  ; — I  want  to 
see  him  rear." 

"  But  you'll  give  him  bad  tricks  !  "  said  Ellen. 
"  Oh,  pray  don't  do  so  !  It's  very  bad  for  him  to 
be  teased.     I  am  afraid  he  will  kick  if  you  do  so, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  195 

and  he'd  be  ruined  if  he  got  a  habit  of  kicking. 
Oh,  please  let  us  go!"  said  she,  with  the  most 
acute  accents  of  entreaty, — "  I  want  to  go  home." 

"  You  keep  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Saunders,  coolly  ; — • 
"  if  he  kicks  I'll  give  him  such  a  lathering  as  he 
never  had  yet ;  he  won't  do  it  but  once.  I  ain't 
a-going  to  hurt  him,  but  I  am  a-going  to  make  him 
rear; — no,  I  won't, — I'll  make  him  leap  over  a  rail, 
the  first  bar-place  we  come  to ;  that'll  be  prettier." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  do  that,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  have 
not  learned  to  leap  yet ;  I  couldn't  keep  on  ;  you 
mustn't  do  that  if  you  please." 

"  You  just  hold  last  and  hold  your  tongue.  Catch 
hold  of  his  ears,  and  you'll  stick  on  fast  enough  ; 
if  you  can't  you  may  get  down,  for  I  am  going  to 
make  him  take  the  leap,  whether  you  will   or  no." 

Ellen  feared  still  more  to  get  off  and  leave  the 
Brownie  to  her  tormentor's  mercy,  than  to  stay 
where  she  was  and  take  her  chance.  She  tried  in 
vain,  as  well  as  she  could,  to  soothe  her  horse  ;  the 
touches  of  the  whip  coming  now  in  one  place  and 
now  in  another,  and  some  of  them  pretty  sharp,  he 
began  to  grow  very  frisky  indeed  ;  and  she  began  to 
be  very  much  frightened  for  fear  she  should  suddenly 
be  jerked  off.  With  a  good  deal  of  presence  of 
mind,  though  wrought  up  to  a  terrible  pitch  of  ex- 
citement and  fear,  Ellen  gave  her  best  attention  to 
keeping  her  seat  as  the  Brownie  sprang,  and  started, 
and  jumped  to  one  side  and  the  other  ;  Mr.  Saun- 
ders holding  the  bridle  as  loose  as  possible  so  as 
to  give  him  plenty  of  room.  For  some  little  time 
he  amused  himself  with  this  game,  the  horse  grow- 
ing more  and  more  irritated.  At  length  a  smart 
stroke  of  the   whip  upon   his   haunches   made  the 


i96  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Brownie  spring  in  a  way  that  brought  Ellen's  heart 
into  her  mouth,  and  almost  threw  her  off. 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  cried  Ellen,  bursting  into  tears 
for  the  first  time, — she  had  with  great  effort  com- 
manded them  back  until  now  ; — "  poor  Brownie  ! — 
How  can  you  !  Oh,  please  let  us  go  ! — please  let 
us  go  ! " 

For  one  minute  she  dropped  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"  Be  quiet !  "  said  Mr.  Saunders.  "  Here's  a 
bar-place — now  for  the  leap  !  " 

Ellen  wiped  away  her  tears,  forced  back  those 
that  were  coming,  and  began  the  most  earnest  re- 
monstrance and  pleading  with  Mr.  Saunders  that 
she  knew  how  to  make.  He  paid  her  no  sort  of 
attention.  He  led  the  Brownie  to  the  side  of  the 
road,  let  down  all  the  bars  but  the  lower  two,  let 
go  the  bridle,  and  stood  a  little  off,  prepared  with 
his  whip  to  force  the  horse  to  take  the  spring. 

"  I  tell  you  I  shall  fall,"  said  Ellen,. reining  him 
back.  "  How  can  you  be  so  cruel ! — I  want  to  go 
home  ! " 

"  Well,  you  ain't  a-going  home,  yet.  Get  off,  if 
you  are  afraid." 

But  though  trembling  in  every  nerve  from  head 
to  foot,  Ellen  fancied  the  Brownie  was  safer  so 
long  as  he  had  her  on  his  back ;  she  would  not 
leave  him.  She  pleaded  her  best,  which  Mr.  Saun- 
ders heard  as  if  it  was  amusing,  and  without  making 
any  answer  kept  the  horse  capering  in  front  of  the 
bars,  pretending  every  minute  he  was  going  to  whip 
him  up  to  take  the  leap.  His  object,  however,  was 
merely  to  gratify  the  smallest  of  minds  by  teasing 
a  child  he  had  a  spite  against;  he  had  no  intention 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  197 

to  risk  breaking  her  bones  by  a  fall  from  her  horse ; 
so  in  time  he  had  enough  of  the  bar-place  ;  took  the 
bridle  again,  and  walked  on.  Ellen  drew  breath  a 
little  more  freely. 

"  Did  you  hear  how  I  handled  your  old  gentle- 
man after  that  time  ?  "  said  Mr.  Saunders. 

Ellen  made  no  answer. 

"  No  one  ever  affronts  me  that  don't  hear  news 
of  it  afterwards,  and  so  he  found  to  his  cost.  / 
paid  him  off  to  my  heart's  content.  I  gave  the 
old  fellow  a  lesson  to  behave  in  future.  I  forgive 
him  now,  entirely.  By  the  way,  I've  a  little  account 
to  settle  with  you — didn't  you  ask  Mr.  Perriman 
this  morning  if  Dr.  Gibson  was  in  the  house  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  who  it  was,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Well,  hadn't  I  told  you  just  before  he  warn't 
there  ? " 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for,  eh  ?  Didn't  you 
believe  me  ?  " 

Still  she  did  not  speak. 

"  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Saunders,  touching  the 
Brownie  as  he  spoke, — "  did  you  think  I  told  you 
a  lie  about  it  ? — eh  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  but  he  might  be  there,"  Ellen 
forced  herself  to  say. 

"  Then  you  didn't  believe  me  ?  "  said  he,  always 
with  that  same  smile  upon  his  face-;  Ellen  knew 
that. 

"  Now  that  warn't  handsome  of  you — and  I'm 
a-going  to  punish  you  for  it,  somehow  or  'nother; 
but  it  ain't  pretty  to  quarrel  with  ladies,  so  Brownie 
and  me'll  settle  it  together.  You  won't  mind  thaty 
I  dare  say." 


198  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  said  Ellen,  as  he 
once  more  drew  her  down  to  the  side  of  the  fence. 

"  Get  off  and  you'll  see,"  said  he,  laughing  : — 
"  get  off  and  you'll  see." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ? "  repeated  Ellen, 
though  scarce  able  to  speak  the  words. 

"  I'm  just  going  to  tickle  Brownie  a  little,  to 
teach  you  to  believe  honest  folks  when  they  speak 
the  truth  ;  get  off  !  " 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Ellen,  throwing  both  arms 
round  the  neck  of  her  pony  ; — "  poor  Brownie  ! 
— you  sha'n't  do  it.  He  hasn't  done  any  harm, 
nor  I  either  ;  you  are   a  bad  man  !  " 

"  Get  off  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Saunders. 

"  I  will  not !  "  said  Ellen,  still  clinging  fast. 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  coolly, — "then  I  will  take 
you  off  ;  it  don't  make  much  difference.  We'll  go 
along  a  little  further  till  I  find  a  nice  stone  for  you 
to  sit  down  upon.  If  you  had  got  off  then  I 
wouldn't  ha'  done  much  to  him,  but  I'll  give  it  to 
him  now  !  If  he  hasn't  been  used  to  a  whip  he'll 
know  pretty  well  what  it  means  by  the  time  I  have 
done  with  him  ;  and  then  you  may  go  home  as  fast 
as  you  can." 

It  is  very  likely  Mr.  Saunders  would  have  been 
as  good,  or  as  bad,  as  his  word.  His  behavior  to 
Ellen  in  the  store  at  New  York,  and  the  measures 
taken  by  the  old  gentleman  who  had  befriended 
her,  had  been  the  cause  of  his  dismissal  from  the 
employ  of  Messrs.  St.  Clair  and  Fleury.  Two  or 
three  other  attempts  to  get  into  business  had  come 
to  nothing,  and  he  had  been  obliged  to  return  to 
his  native  town.  Ever  since,  Ellen  and  the  old 
gentleman  had  lived  in  his  memory  as  objects  of 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  199 

the  deepest  spite  ; — the  one  for  interfering,  the 
other  for  having  been  the  innocent  cause  ;  and  he 
no  sooner  saw  her  in  the  post-office  than  he 
promised  himself  revenge,  such  revenge  as  only 
the  meanest  and  most  cowardly  spirit  could  have 
taken  pleasure  in.  His  best  way  of  distressing 
Ellen,  he  found,  was  through  her  horse ;  he  had 
almost  satisfied  himself  ;  but  very  naturally  his 
feeling  of  spite  had  grown  stronger  and  blunter  with 
indulgence,  and  he  meant  to  wind  up  with  such 
a  treatment  of  her  pony,  real  or  seeming,  as  he 
knew  would  give  great  pain  to  the  pony's  mistress. 
He  was  prevented. 

As  they  went  slowly  along,  Ellen  still  clasping 
the  Brownie's  neck  and  resolved  to  cling  to  him  to 
the  last,  Mr.  Saunders  making  him  caper  in  a  way 
very  uncomfortable  to  her,  one  was  too  busy  and 
the  other  too  deafened  by  fear  to  notice  the  sound 
of  fast-approaching  hoofs  behind  them.  It  hap- 
pened that  John  Humphreys  had  passed  the  night 
at  Ventnor;  and  having  an  errand  to  do  for  a 
friend  at  Thirlwall  had  taken  that  road,  which  led 
him  but  a  few  miles  out  of  his  way,  and  was  now 
at  full  speed  on  his  way  home.  He  had  never  made 
the  Brownie's  acquaintance,  and  did  not  recognize 
Ellen  as  he  came  up  ;  but  in  passing  them  some 
strange  notion  crossing  his  mind,  he  wheeled  his 
horse  round  directly  in  front  of  the  astonished  pair. 
Ellen  quitted  her  pony's  neck,  and  stretching  out 
both  arms  towards  him  exclaimed,  almost  shrieked, 
"  Oh,  John !  John  !  send  him  away  !  make  him  let 
me  go  !  " 

"  What  are  you  about,  sir  ? "  said  the  new< 
comer,  sternly. 


2  oo  THE   WIDE,  WIVE   WORLD. 

"  It's  none  of  your  business ! "  answered  Mr. 
Saunders,  in  whom  rage  for  the  time  overcame 
cowardice. 

"  Take  your  hand  off  the  bridle  !  " — with  a  slight 
touch  of  the  riding-whip  upon  the  hand  in  question. 

"  Not  for  you,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Saunders, 
sneeringly ; — "  I'll  walk  with  any  lady  I've  a  mind 
to.     Look  out  for  yourself  !  " 

"  We  will  dispense  with  your  further  attendance," 
said  John,  coolly.  "  Do  you  hear  me  ?— do  as  I 
order  you  !  " 

The  speaker  did  not  put  himself  in  a  passion, 
and  Mr.  Saunders,  accustomed  for  his  own  part  to 
make  bluster  serve  instead  of  prowess,  despised  a 
command  so  calmly  given. — Ellen,  who  knew  the 
voice,  and  still  better  could  read  the  eye,  drew  con- 
clusions very  different.  She  was  almost  breathless 
with  terror.  Saunders  was  enraged  and  mortified 
at  an  interference  that  promised  to  baffle  him ;  he 
was  a  stout  young  man,  and  judged  himself  the 
stronger  of  the  two,  and  took  notice  besides  that 
the  stranger  had  nothing  in  his  hand  but  a  slight 
riding-whip.  He  answered  very  insolently  and 
with  an  oath  ;  and  John  saw  that  he  was  taking  the 
bridle  in  his  left  hand  and  shifting  his  sapling 
whip  so  as  to  bring  the  club  end  of  it  uppermost. 
The  next  instant  he  aimed  a  furious  blow  at  his 
adversary's  horse.  The  quick  eye  and  hand  of 
the  rider  disappointed  that  with  a  sudden  swerve. 
In  another  moment,  and  Ellen  hardly  saw  how,  it 
was  so  quick, — John  had  dismounted,  taken  Mr. 
Saunders  by  the  collar,  and  hurled  him  quite  over 
into  the  gulley  at  the  side  of  the  road,  where  he 
lay  at  full  length  without  stirring. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  201 

"  Ride  on,  Ellen  !  "  said  her  deliverer. 

She  obeyed.  He  stayed  a  moment  to  say  to  his 
fallen  adversary  a  few  words  of  pointed  warning  as 
to  ever  repeating  his  offense ;  then  remounted  and 
spurred  forward  to  join  Ellen.  All  her  power  of 
keeping  up  was  gone,  now  that  the  necessity  was 
over..  Her  head  was  once  more  bowed  on  her 
pony's  neck,  her  whole  frame  shaking  with  convul- 
sive sobs  ;  she  could  scarce  with  great  effort  keep 
from  crying  out  aloud. 

"  Ellie  !  " — said  her  adopted  brother,  in  a  voice 
that  could  hardly  be  known  for  the  one  that  had 
last  spoken.  She  had  no  words,  but  as  he  gently 
took  one  of  her  hands,  the  convulsive  squeeze  it 
gave  him  showed  the  state  of  nervous  excitement 
she  was  in.  It  was  very  long  before  his  utmost 
efforts  could  soothe  her,  or  she  could  command 
herself  enough  to  tell  him  her  story.  When  at  last 
told,  it  was  with  many  tears. 

"  Oh,  how  could  he !  how  could  he  !  "  said  poor 
Ellen  ; — "  how  could  he  do  so  ! — it  was  very  hard  !  " 

An  involuntary  touch  of  the  spurs  made  John's 
horse  start. 

"  But  what  took  you  to  Thirlwall  alone  ? "  said 
he  ; — "  you  have  not  told  me  that  yet." 

Ellen  went  back  to  Timothy's  invasion  of  the 
cabbages,  and  gave  him  the  whole  history  of  the 
morning. 

"  I  thought  when  I  was  going  for  the  doctor,,  at 
first,"  said  she, — "  and  then  afterwards  when  I 
had  found  him,  what  a  good  thing  it  was  that 
Timothy  broke  down  the  garden  fence  and  got  in 
this  morning !  for  if  it  had  not  been  for  that 
I    should  not  have  gone    to  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  ;— 


202  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  then  again  after  that  I  thought,  if  he  onlj 
hadn't ! " 

"  Little  things  often  draw  after  them  long  trains 
of  circumstances,"  said  John, — "  and  that  shows 
the  folly  of  those  people  who  think  that  God  does 
not  stoop  to  concern  Himself  about  trifles  ; — life, 
and  much  more  than  life,  may  hang  upon  the  turn 
of  a  hand.  But,  Ellen,  you  must  ride  no  more  alone. 
— Promise  me  that  you  will  not." 

"  I  will  not  to  Thirlwall  certainly,"  said  Ellen, — 
"  but  mayn't  I  to  Alice's  ? — how  can  I  help  it  ?  " 

"Well — to  Alice's — that  is  a  safe  part  of  the 
country ; — but  I  should  like  to  know  a  little  more 
of  your  horse  before  trusting  you  even  there." 

"  Of  the  Brownie  ?  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  oh,  ne  is  as 
good  as  he  can  be  ;  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  him  ; 
he  has  no  trick  at  all ;  there  never  was  such  a  good 
little  horse." 

John  smiled.  "  How  do  you  like  mine  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Is  that  your  new  one  ?  Oh,  what  a  beauty  ! — 
Oh,  me,  what  a  beauty  !  I  didn't  look  at  him  be- 
fore. Oh,  I  like  him  very  much  !  he's  handsomer 
than  the  Brownie  ; — do  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  Very  well ! — this  is  the  first  trial  I  have  made 
of  him.  I  was  at  Mr.  Marshman's  last  night,  and 
they  detained  me  this  morning  or  I  should  have 
been  here  much  earlier.  I  am  very  well  satisfied 
with  him,  so  far." 

"  And  if  you  had  notbeen  detained  !  " — said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  Ellie — I  should  not  have  fretted  at  my 
late  breakfast  and  having  to  try  Mr.  Marshman's 
favorite  mare,  if  I  had  known  what  good  purpose 
the  delay  was  to  serve.  I  wish  I  could  have  been 
here  half  an  hour  sooner,  though. " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  203 

"  Is  his  name  the  Black  Prince  ?  "  said  Ellen,  re- 
turning to  the  horse. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so ;  but  you  shall  change  it, 
Ellie,  if  you  can  find  one  you  like  better." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  ! — I  like  that  very  much.  How 
beautiful  he  is  !     Is  he  good  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  John,  smiling ; — "  if  he  is  not 
I  shall  be  at  the  pains  to  make  him  so.  We  are 
hardly  acquainted  yet." 

Ellen  looked  doubtfully  at  the  black  horse  and 
his  rider,  and  patting  the  Brownie's  neck,  observed 
with  great  satisfaction  that  he  was  very  good. 

John  had  been  riding  very  slowly  on  Ellen's 
account ;  they  now  mended  their  pace.  He  saw, 
however,  that  she  still  looked  miserably,  and  exerted 
himself  to  turn  her  thoughts  from  everything  dis- 
agreeable. Much  to  her  amusement  he  rode  round 
her  two  or  three  times,  to  view  her  horse  and  show 
her  his  own ;  commended  the  Brownie  ;  praised 
her  bridle  hand  ;  corrected  several  things  about 
her  riding ;  and  by  degrees  engaged  her  in  very 
animated  conversation.  Ellen  roused  up;  the 
color  came  back  to  her  cheeks  ;  and  when' they 
reached  home  and  rode  round  to  the  glass  door 
she  looked  almost  like  herself. 

She  sprang  off  as  usual,  without  waiting  for  any 
help.  John  scarce  saw  that  she  had  done  so,  when 
Alice's  cry  of  joy  brought  him  to  the  door,  and 
from  that  together  they  went  in  to  their  father's 
study.  Ellen  was  left  alone  on  the  lawn.  Some- 
thing was  the  matter;  for  she  stood  with  swimming 
eyes  and  a  trembling  lip,  rubbing  her  stirrup,  which 
really  needed  no  polishing,  and  forgetting  the  tired 
horses,  which  would  have  had  her  sympathy  at  any 


204  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

other  time.  What  was  the  matter  ?  Only — that 
Mr.  John  had  forgotten  the  kiss  he  always  gave  her 
on  going  or  coming.  Ellen  was  jealous  of  it  as  a 
pledge  of  sistership,  and  could  not  want  it ;  and 
though  she  tried  as  hard  as  she  could  to  get  her 
face  in  order,  so  that  she  might  go  in  and  meet  them, 
somehow  it  seemed  to  take  a  great  while.  She  was 
still  busy  with  her  stirrup,  when  she  suddenly  felt 
two  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and  looking  up  received 
the  very  kiss  the  want  of  which  she  had  been  lament- 
ing. But  John  saw  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  asked 
her,  she  thought  with  somewhat  of  a  comical  look, 
what  the  matter  was  ?  Ellen  was  ashamed  to  tell, 
but  he  had  her  there  by  the  shoulders,  and  besides, 
whatever  that  eye  demanded  she  never  knew  how 
to  keep  back;  so  with  some  difficulty  she  told  him. 

"  You  are  a  foolish  child,  Ellie,"  said  he  gently, 
and  kissing  her  again.  "  Run  in  out  of  the  sun 
while  I  see  to  the  horses." 

Ellen  ran  in,  and  told  her  long  story  to  Alice ; 
and  then  feeling  very  weary  and  weak  she  sat  on 
the  sofa  and  lay  resting  in  her  arms  in  a  state  of 
the  most  entire  and  unruffled  happiness.  Alice, 
however,  after  a  while  transferred  her  to  bed,  think- 
ing, with  good  reason,  that  a  long  sleep  would  be 
the  best  thing  for  her. 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  205 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Now  is  the  pleasant  time, 
The  cool,  the  silent,  save  where  silence  yields 
To  the  night-warbling  bird  ;  that  now  awake, 
Tunes  sweetest  her  love-labored  song ;  now  reigns 
Full-orbed  the  moon,  and  with  more  pleasing  light, 
Shadowy,  sets  off  the  face  of  things. 

Milton. 

When  Ellen  came  out  of  Alice's  room  again  it 
was  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  sun  was  so  low 
that  the  shadow  of  the  house  had  crossed  the  nar- 
now  lawn  and  mounted  up  near  to  the  top  of  the 
trees ;  but  on  them  he  was  still  shining  brightly, 
and  on  the  broad  landscape  beyond,  which  lay 
open  to  view  through  the  gap  in  the  trees.  The 
glass  door  was  open  ;  the  sweet  summer  air  and 
the  sound  of  birds  and  insects  and  fluttering  leaves 
floated  into  the  room,  making  the  stillness  musical. 
On  the  threshold  pussy  sat  crouched,  with  his  fore- 
feet  doubled  under  his  breast,  watching  with  intense 
gravity  the  operations  of  Margery,  who  was  setting 
the  table  on  the  lawn  just  before  his  eyes.  Alice 
was  paring  peaches. 

"  Oh,  we  are  going  to  have  tea  out  of  doors, 
aren't  we  ?  "  said  Ellen.  "  I'm  very  glad.  What 
a  lovely  evening,  isn't  it  ?  Just  look  at  pussy,  will 
you,  Alice  ?  don't  you  believe  he  knows  what  Mar- 
gery is  doing  ? — Why  didn't  you  call  me  to  go  along 
with  you  after  peaches  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  doing  the  very  best  thing 
you  possibly  could,  Ellie,  my  dear.  How  do  you 
do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nicely  now  !     Where's  Mr.  John  ?     I  hope 


2o6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

he  won't  ask  for  my  last  drawing  to-night, — I  want 
to  fix  the  top  of  that  tree  before  he  sees  it." 

M  Fix  the  top  of  your  tree,  you  little  Yankee  ? " 
said  Alice  ; — "  what  do  you  think  John  would  say 
to  that  ? — unfix  it  you  mean  ;  it  is  too  stiff  already, 
isn't  it  ? " 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  say  ?  "  said  Ellen,  laughing. 
"  I  am  sorry  that  is  Yankee,  for  I  suppose  one  must 
speak  English. — I  want  to  do  something  to  my  tree, 
then. — Where  is  he,  Alice  ?  " 

"  He  is  gone  down  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt's,  to  see 
how  he  is,  and  to  speak  to  Miss  Fortune  about  you 
on  his  way  back." 

"  Oh,  how  kind  of  him  ! — he's  very  good  ;  that  is 
just  what  I  want  to  know ;  but  I  am  sorry,  after 
his  long  ride " 

"  He  don't  mind  that,  Ellie.  He'll  be  home 
presently." 

"  How  nice  those  peaches  look  • — they  are  as 
good  as  strawberries,  don't  you  think  so  ? — better, 
— I  don't  know  which  is  best ; — but  Mr.  John  likes 
these  best,  don't  he  ?  Now,  you've  done  ! — shall  I 
set  them  on  the  table  ? — and  here's  a  pitcher  of 
splendid  cream,  Alice  ! " 

"  You  had  better  not  tell  John  so,  or  he  will  make 
you  define  splendid" 

John  came  back  in  good  time,  and  brought  word 
that  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  doing  very  well,  so  far  as 
could  be  known  5  also,  that  Miss  Fortune  consented 
to  Ellen's  remaining  where  she  was.  He  wisely 
did  not  say,  however,  that  her  consent  had  been 
slow  to  gain  till  he  had  hinted  at  his  readiness  to 
provide  a  substitute  for  Ellen's  services  ;  on  which 
Miss    Fortune  had  instantly  declared  she  did    not 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  207 

want  her  and  she  might  stay  as  long  as  she  pleased. 
This  was  all  that  was  needed  to  complete  Ellen's 
felicity. 

"  Wasn't  your  poor  horse  too  tired  to  go  out  again 
this  afternoon,  Mr.  John  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  ride  him,  Ellie  ;  I  took  yours." 

"The  Brownie! — did  you? — I'm  very  glad! 
How  did  you  like  him  ?  But  perhaps  he  was  tired 
a  little,  and  you  couldn't  tell  so  well  to-day." 

"  He  was  not  tired  with  any  work  you  had  given 
him,  Ellie  ; — perhaps  he  may  be  a  little  now." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Ellen,  somewhat  alarmed. 

"  I  have  been  trying  him  ;  and  instead  of  going 
quietly  along  the  road  we  have  been  taking  some 
of  the  fences  in  our  way.  As  I  intend  practicing 
you  at  the  bar,  I  wished  to  make  sure  in  the  first 
place  that  he  knew  his  lesson." 

"Well,  how  did  he  do?" 

"Perfectly  well — I  believe  he  is  a  good  little 
fellow.  I  wanted  to  satisfy  myself  if  he  was  fit  to 
be  trusted  with  you ;  and  I  rather  think  Mr.  Marsh- 
man  has  taken  care  of  that." 

The  whole  wall  of  trees  was  in  shadow  when  the 
little  family  sat  down  to  table  ;  but  there  was  still  the 
sun-lit  picture  behind ;  and  there  was  another  kind 
of  sunshine  in  every  face  at  the  table.  Quietly 
happy  the  whole  four,  or  at  least  the  whole  three, 
were ;  first,  in  being  together, — after  that,  in  all 
things  beside.  Never  was  tea  so  refreshing,  or 
bread  and  butter  so  sweet,  or  the  song  of  birds  so 
delightsome.  When  the  birds  were  gone  to  their 
nests,  the  cricket  and  grasshopper  and  tree-toad  and 
katydid,  and  nameless  other  songsters,  kept  up  a 
concert, — nature's  own, — in  delicious  harmony  with 


208  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

woods  and  flowers  and  summer  breezes  and  even- 
ing light.  Ellen's  cup  of  enjoyment  was  running 
over.  From  one  beautiful  thing  to  another  her  eye 
wandered, — from  one  joy  to  another  her  thoughts 
went, — till  her  full  heart  fixed  on  the  God  who  had 
made  and  given  them  all,  and  that  Redeemer  whose 
blood  had  been  their  purchase-money.  From  the 
dear  friends  beside  her,  the  best-loved  she  had  in  the 
world,  she  thought  of  the  one  dearer  yet  from  whom 
death  had  separated  her  ; — yet  living  still, — and  to 
whom  death  would  restore  her,  thanks  to  Him  who 
had  burst  the  bonds  of  death  and  broken  the  gates 
of  the  grave,  and  made  a  way  for  His  ransomed  to 
pass  over.  And  the  thought  of  Him  was  the  joy- 
fullest  of  all ! 

"  You  look  happy,  Ellie,"  said  her  adopted 
brother. 

"  So  I  am,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  a  very  bright 
smile. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  " 

But  John  saw  it  would  not  do  to  press  his  ques- 
tion. 

"  You  remind  me,"  said  he,  "  of  some  old  fairy 
story  that  my  childish  ears  received,  in  which  the 
fountains  of  the  sweet  and  bitter  waters  of  life  were 
.said  to  stand  very  near  each  other,  and  to  mingle 
their  streams  but  a  little  way  from  their  source. 
Your  tears  and  smiles  seem  to  be  brothers  and  sis- 
ters ; — whenever  we  see  one  we  may  be  sure  the 
other  is  not  far  off." 

**  My  dear  Jack  !  "  said  Alice,  laughing, — "  what 
an  unhappy  simile  !  Are  brothers  and  sisters  al- 
ways found  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  wish  they  were,"  said  John,  sighing  and  smil 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  209 

ing ; — "  but  my  last  words  had  nothing  to  do   with 
my  simile,  as  you  call  it." 

When  tea  was  over,  and  Margery  had  withdrawn 
the  things  and  taken  away  the  table,  they  still  lin- 
gered in  their  places.  It  was  far  too  pleasant  to  go 
in.  Mr.  Humphreys  moved  his  chair  to  the  side 
of  the  house,  and  throwing  a  handkerchief  over  his 
head  to  defend  him  from  the  mosquitoes,  a  few  of 
which  were  buzzing  about,  he  either  listened,  med- 
itated, or  slept ; — most  probably  one  of  the  two  lat- 
ter ;  for  the  conversation  was  not  very  loud  nor 
very  lively ;  it  was  happiness  enough  merely  to 
breathe  so  near  each  other.  The  sun  left  the  distant 
fields  and  hills ;  soft  twilight  stole  through  the 
woods,  down  the  gap,  and  over  the  plain  ;  the  grass 
lost  its  green  ;  the  wall  of  trees  grew  dark  and 
dusky ;  and  very  faint  and  dim  showed  the  picture 
that  was  so  bright  a  little  while  ago.  As  they  sat 
quite  silent,  listening  to  what  nature  had  to  say  to 
them,  or  letting  fancy  and  memory  take  their  way, 
the  silence  was  broken — hardly  broken — by  the  dis- 
tinct, far-off  cry  of  a  whip-poor-will.  Alice  grasped 
her  brother's  arm,  and  they  remained  motionless, 
while  it  came  nearer,  nearer, — then  quite  near, — 
with  its  clear,  wild,  shrill,  melancholy  note  sounding 
close  by  them  again  and  again, — strangely,  plain- 
tively,— then  leaving  the  lawn,  it  was  heard  further 
and  further  off,  till  the  last  faint  "  whip-poor-will," 
in  the  far  distance,  ended  its  pretty  interlude.  It 
was  almost  too  dark  to  read  faces,  but  the  eyes  of 
the  brother  and  sister  had  sought  each  other  and 
remained  fixed  till  the  bird  was  out  of  hearing ;  then 
Alice's  hand  was  removed  to  his,  and  her  head 
found  its  old  place  on  her  brother's  shoulder. 
14 


2io  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Sometimes,  John,"  said  Alice,  "  I  am  afraid 
I  have  one  tie  too  strong  to  this  world.  I  cannot 
bear — as  I  ought — to  have  you  away  from  me." 

Her  brother's  lips  were  instantly  pressed  to  her 
forehead. 

"  I  may  say  to  Alice,  as  Col.  Gardiner  said  to  his 
wife,  ■  We  have  an  eternity  to  spend  together !  '  " 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Alice,  after  a  pause, — "  how 
those  can  bear  to  love  or  be  loved,  whose  affection 
can  see  nothing  but  a  blank  beyond  the  grave." 

"Few  people,  I  believe,"  said  her  brotherT 
"  would  come  exactly  under  that  description  ;  most 
flatter  themselves  with  a  vague  hope  of  reunion 
after  death." 

"But  that  is  a  miserable  hope — very  different 
from  ours." 

"  Very  different  indeed  ! — and  miserable  ;  for  it 
can  only  deceive  ;  but  ours  is  sure.  '  Them  that 
sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with  Him.'  V 

"  Precious  !  "  said  Alice.  "  How  exactly  fitted 
to  every  want  and  mood  of  the  mind  are  the  sweet 
Bible  words." 

"  Well !  "  said  Mr.  Humphreys,  rousing  himself, 
— "  I  am  going  in  !  These  mosquitoes  have  half 
eaten  me  up.     Are  you  going  to  sit  there  all  night  ?  " 

"  We  are  thinking  of  it,  papa,"  said  Alice,  cheer- 
fully. 

He  went  in,  and  was  heard  calling  Margery  for 
a  light. 

They  had  better  lights  on  the  lawn.  The  stars 
began  to  peep  out  through  the  soft  blue,  and  as  the 
blue  grew  deeper  they  came  out  more  and  brighter, 
till  all  heaven  was  hung  with  lamps.  But  that  was 
not  all.     In  the  eastern  horizon,  just  above  the  low 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  211 

hills  that  bordered  the  far  side  of  the  plain,  a  white 
light,  spreading  and  growing  and  brightening,  prom- 
ised the  moon,  and  promised  that  she  would  rise 
very  splendid  ;  and  even  before  she  came  began  to 
throw  a  faint  luster  over  the  landscape.  All  eyes 
were  fastened,  and  exclamations  burst,  as  the  first 
silver  edge  showed  itself,  and  the  moon  rapidly  ris- 
ing looked  on  them  with  her  whole  broad  bright 
face,  lighting  up  not  only  their  faces  and  figures 
but  the  wide  country  view  that  was  spread  out 
below,  and  touching  most  beautifully  the  trees  in 
the  edge  of  the  gap,  and  faintly  the  lawn  ;  while 
the  wall  of  wood  stood  in  deeper  and  blacker 
shadow  than  ever. 

"  Isn't  that  beautiful  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Come  round  here,  Ellie,"  said  John  ; — "  Alice 
may  have  you  all  the  rest  of  the  year,  but  when  I 
am  at  home  you  belong  to  me.  What  was  your 
little  head  busied  upon  a  while  ago  ? " 

"  When  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  When  I  asked  you " 

"  Oh,  I  know, — I  remember.    I  was  thinking " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking — do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Unless  you  would  rather  not." 

"  I  was  thinking  about  Jesus  Christ,"  said  Ellen, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"What  about  Him,  dear  Ellie?"  said  her 
brother,  drawing  her  closer  to  his  side. 

"  Different  things, — I  was  thinking  of  what  He 
said  about  little  children, — and  about  what  He  said, 
you  know, — '  In  My  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions  ; ' — and  I  was  thinking  that  mamma  was 
*here  ;  and  I  thought, — that  we  all " 


212  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  could  get  no  further. 

"  '  He  that  believeth  in  Him  shall  not  be 
ashamed,'  "  said  John,  softly.  "  '  This  is  the 
promise  that  He  hath  promised  us,  even  eternal 
life ;  and  who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?  Not  death,  nor  things  present,  nor  things 
to  come.  But  he  that  hath  this  hope  in  Him, 
purifieth  himself  even  as  He  is  pure  ; ' — let  us 
remember  that  too." 

"  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen,  presently, — "  don't  you 
like  some  of  the  chapters  in  the  Revelation  very 
much  ?  " 

"  Yes — very  much.     Why  ? — do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  reading  parts  of  them  to 
mamma,  and  that  is  one  reason,  I  suppose  ;  but  I 
like  them  very  much.  There  is  a  great  deal  I 
can't  understand,  though." 

"There  is  nothing  finer  in  the  Bible  than  parts 
of  that  book,"  said  Alice. 

"  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen, — "  what  is  meant  by 
the  '  white  stone  ? '  " 

"  '  And  in  the  stone  a  new  name  written  ? '  " 

"Yes— that  I  mean." 

"  Mr.  Baxter  says  it  is  the  sense  of  God'-s  love 
in  the  heart;  and  indeed  that  is  it,  'which  no  man 
knoweth  saving  him  that  receiveth  it.'  This,  I 
take  it,  Ellen,  was  Christian's  certificate,  which  he 
used  to  comfort  himself  with  reading  in,  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  Can  a  child  have  it,"  said  Ellen,  thoughtfully. 

"  Certainly — many  children  have  had  it — you 
may  have  it.  Only  seek  it  faithfully.  '  Thou 
meetest  Him  that  rejoiceth  and  worketh  righteous' 
ness,  those  that  remember  Thee  in  Thy  ways.'—* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  RID,  213 

And  Christ  said,  'He  that  loveth  Me  shall  be 
loved  of  my  Father,  and  I  will  love  him,  and  I  will 
manifest  myself  to  him  !  '  There  is  no  failure  in 
these  promises,  Ellie  ;  He  that  made  their  "s  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever." 

For  a  little  while  each  was  busy  with  his  own 
meditations.  The  moon,  meanwhile,  rising  higher 
and  higher,  poured  a  flood  of  light  through  the 
gap  in  the  woods  before  them,  and  stealing  among 
the  trees  here  and  there  lit  up  a  spot  of  ground 
under  their  deep  shadow.  The  distant  picture  lay 
in  mazy  brightness.  All  was  still,  but  the  cease- 
less chirrup  of  insects,  and  gentle  flapping  of 
leaves  ;  the  summer  air  just  touched  their  cheeks 
with  the  lightest  breath  of  a  kiss,  sweet  from 
distant  hay-fields,  and  nearer  pines  and  hemlocks, 
and  other  of  nature's  numberless  perfume-boxes. 
The  hay-harvest  had  been  remarkably  late  this 
year. 

"This  is  higher  enjoyment,"  said  John, — "  than 
half  those  who  make  their  homes  in  rich  houses 
and  mighty  palaces  have  any  notion  of." 

"  But  cannot  rich  people  look  at  the  moon  ? " 
said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  but  the  taste  for  pure  pleasures  is  com- 
monly gone  when  people  make  a  trade  of  pleasure." 

"  Mr.  John,"— Ellen  began. 

"  I  will  forewarn  you,"  said  he, — "  that  Mr. 
John  has  made  up  his  mind  he  will  do  nothing 
more  for  you.  So  if  you  have  anything  to  ask,  it 
must  lie  still, — unless  you  will  begin  again." 

Ellen  drew  back.  He  looked  grave,  but  she 
saw  Alice  smiling. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ? "  said   she,  a   little  per 


214  Tfrj*  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

plexed  and  half  laughing.  "  What  do  you  mean, 
Mr.  John  ?     What  does  he  mean,  Alice  ?  " 

"  You  could  speak  without  a  '  Mr.'  to  me  this 
morning  when  you  were  in  trouble." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Ellen,  laughing, — "  I  forgot  myself 
then." 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  forget  yourself  per- 
manently for  the  future." 

"  Was  that  man  hurt  this  morning,  John  ?  "  said 
his  sister. 

"  What  man  ?  " 

"  That  man  you  delivered  Ellen  from." 

"  Hurt  ?  no — nothing  material ;  I  did  not  wish 
to  hurt  him.  He  richly  deserved  punishment;  but 
it  was  not  for  me  to  give  it." 

"  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  get  up,"  said  Ellen. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  ventured  upon  that  till  we 
were  well  out  of  the  way.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  after  us  as  we  rode  off." 

"  But  I  wanted  to  ask  something,"  said  Ellen, — 
"  Oh  !  what  is  the  reason  the  moon  looks  so  much 
larger  when  she  first  gets  up  than  she  does  after- 
wards ? " 

"  Whom  are  you  asking  ?  " 

"  You." 

"  And  who  is  you  ?  Here  are  two  people  in  the 
moonlight." 

"  Mr.  John  Humphreys, — Alice's  brother,  and 
that  Thomas  calls  '  the  young  master,'  "  said 
Ellen,  laughing. 

"  You  are  more  shy  of  taking  a  leap  than  your 
little  horse  is,"  said  John,  smiling, — "  but  I  shall 
bring  you  up  to  it  yet.  What  is  the  cause  of  the 
sudden  enlargement  of  my  thumb  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  215 

He  had  drawn  a  small  magnifying  glass  from 
Ais  pocket  and  held  it  between  his  hand  and 
Ellen. 

"  Why,  it  is  not  enlarged,"  said  Ellen, — "  it  is  only 
magnified." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  glass  makes  it  look  larger." 

"  Do  you  know  how,  or  why  ? " 

"  No." 

He  put  up  the  glass  again. 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  Ellen  ; — ■ 
"  there  is  no  magnifying  glass  between  us  and  the 
moon  to  make  her  look  larger." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that?  " 

"  Why,  yes  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  am  perfectly 
sure;  there  is  nothing  in  the  world.  There  she  is, 
right  up  there,  looking  straight  down  upon  us,  and 
there  is  nothing  between." 

"  What  is  it  that  keeps  up  that  pleasant  flutter- 
ing of  leaves  in  the  wood  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  wind." 

"  And  what  is  the  wind  ? " 

"  It  is  air — air  moving,  I  suppose." 

"  Exactly.  Then  there  is  something  between  us 
and  the  moon." 

"The  air!  But,  Mr.  John,  one  can  see  quite 
clearly  through  the  air;  it  doesn't  make  things  look 
larger  or  smaller." 

"  How  far  do  you  suppose  the  air  reaches  from 
us  towards  the  moon  ?  " 

"Why,  all  the  way,  don't  it?" 

"  No — only  about  forty  miles.  If  it  reached  all 
the  way  there  would  indeed  be  no  magnifying  glass 
in  the  case." 


2i6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  But  how  is  it  ?  "  said  Ellen.  "  I  don't  under 
stand." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  to-night,  Ellen.  There  is  a 
long  ladder  of  knowledge  to  go  up  before  we  can 
get  to  the  moon,  but  we  will  begin  to  mount  to- 
morrow, if  nothing  happens.  Alice,  you  have  that 
little  book  of  Conversations  on  Natural  Philos- 
ophy, which  you  and  I  used  to  delight  ourselves 
with  in  old  time  ?  " 

"  Safe  and  sound  in  the  book-case,"  said  Alice. 
"  I  have  thought  of  giving  it  to  Ellen  before,  but 
she  has  been  busy  enough  with  what  she  had 
already." 

"I  have  done  Rollin,  now,  though,"  said  Ellen; 
— "  that  is  lucky.     I  am  ready  for  the  moon." 

This  new  study  was  begun  the  next  day,  and 
Ellen  took  great  delight  in  it.  She  would  have 
run  on  too  fast  in  her  eagerness  but  for  the  steady 
hand  of  her  teacher  ;  he  obliged  her  to  be  very 
thorough.  This  was  only  one  of  her  items  of 
business.  The  weeks  of  John's  stay  were  as  usual 
not  merely  weeks  of  constant  and  varied  delight, 
but  of  constant  and  swift  improvement  too. 

A  good  deal  of  time  was  given  to  the  riding- 
lessons.  John  busied  himself  one  morning  in  pre- 
paring a  bar  for  her  on  the  lawn ;  so  placed  that 
it  might  fall  if  the  horse's  heels  touched  it.  Here 
Ellen  learned  to  take  first  standing  and  then  run- 
ning leaps.  She  was  afraid  at  first,  but  habit  wore 
that  off ;  and  the  bar  was  raised  higher  and  higher, 
till  Margery  declared  she  "  couldn't  stand  and  look 
at  her  going  over  it."  Then  John  made  her  ride 
without  the  stirrup,  and  with  her  hands  behind  her, 
while  he,  holding  the  horse  by  a  long  halter,  made 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  217 

him  go  round  in  a  circle,  slowly  at  first,  and  after- 
wards trotting  and  cantering,  till  Ellen  felt  almost 
as  secure  on  his  back  as  in  a  chair.  It  took  a  good 
many  lessons,  however,  to  bring  her  to  this,  and 
she  trembled  very  much  at  the  beginning.  Her 
teacher  was  careful  and  gentle,  but  determined  ; 
and  whatever  he  said  she  did,  tremble  or  no  trem- 
ble, and  in  general  loved  her  riding  lessons  dearly. 

Drawing  too  went  on  finely.  He  began  to  let 
her  draw  things  from  nature  ;  and  many  a  pleasant 
morning  the  three  went  out  together  with  pencils 
and  books  and  work,  and  spent  hours  in  the 
open  air.  They  would  find  a  pretty  point  of  view,, 
or  a  nice  shady  place  where  the  breeze  came,  and 
where  there  was  some  good  old  rock  with  a  tree 
beside  it,  or  a  piece  of  fence,  or  a  house  or  barn  in 
the  distance,  for  Ellen  to  sketch  ;  and  while  she 
drew  and  Alice  worked,  John  read  aloud  to  them. 
Sometimes  he  took  a  pencil  too,  and  Alice  read  ; 
and  often,  often,  pencils,  books,  and  work  were  all 
laid  down,  and  talk — lively,  serious,  earnest,  and 
always  delightful — took  the  place  of  them.  When 
Ellen  could  not  understand  the  words,  at  least  she 
could  read  the  faces  ;  and  that  was  a  study  she 
was  never  weary  of.  At  home  there  were  other 
studies  and  much  reading  ;  many  tea  drinkings  on 
the  lawn,  and  even  breakfastings,  which  she  thought 
pleasanter  still. 

As  soon  as  it  was  decided  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
leg  was  doing  well,  and  in  a  fair  way  to  be  sound 
again,  Ellen  went  to  see  him  ;  and  after  that  rarely 
let  two  days  pass  without  going  again.  John  and 
Alice  used  to  ride  with  her  so  far,  and  taking  a 
turn  beyond  while  she  made  her  visit,  call  for  he* 


218  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

on  their  way  back.  She  had  a  strong  motive  foi 
going  in  the  pleasure  her  presence  always  gave, 
both  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  his  mother.  Sam  Lar- 
kens  had  been  to  Thirlwall  and  seen  Mrs.  Forbes, 
and  from  him  they  had  heard  the  story  of  her 
riding  up  and  down  the  town  in  search  of  the 
doctor  ;  neither  of  them  could  forget  it.  Mrs.  Van 
Brunt  poured  out  her  affection  in  all  sorts  of  ex- 
pressions whenever  she  had  Ellen's  ear;  her  son 
was  not  a  man  of  many  words  ;  but  Ellen  knew 
his  face  and  manner  well  enough  without  them, 
and  read  there  whenever  she  went  into  his  room 
what  gave  her  great  pleasure. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  "  she  said  on 
one  of  these  occasions. 

"  Oh,  I'm  getting  along,  I  s'pose,"  said  he  ; — "  get- 
ting along  as  well  as  a  man  can  that's  lying  on  his 
back  from  morning  to  night ; — prostrated,  as  'Squire 
Dennison  said  his  corn  was  t'other  day." 

"  It  is  very  tiresome,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  It's  the  tiresomest  work  .nat  ever  was,  for  a 
man  that  has  two  arms  to  be  a-doing  nothing,  day 
after  day.  And  what  bothers  me  is  the  wheat  in 
that  ten-acre  lot,  that  ought  to  be  prostrated  too, 
and  ain't,  nor  ain't  like  to  be,  as  I  know,  unless 
the  rain  comes  and  does  it.  Sam  and  Johnny'll 
make  no  headway  at  all  with  it — I  can  tell  as  well 
as  if  I  see  'em." 

"  But  Sam  is  good,  isn't  he  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Sam's  as  good  a  boy  as  ever  was  ;  but  then 
Johnny  Low  is  mischievous,  you  see,  and  he  gets 
Sam  out  of  his  tracks  once  in  a  while;  I  never  see 
a  finer  growth  of  wheat.  I  had  a  sight  rather  cut 
and  harvest  the  hull  of  it  than  to  lie  here  and  think 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

of  it  getting  spoiled.     I'm 
trap-doors,  Ellen." 

Ellen  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"There  ain't  nothing,"  said  he  ; — "  I  wish  there 
was.     How  are  you  coming  along  at  home  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  am  not  there 
just  now,  you  know ;  I  am  staying  up  with  Miss 
Alice  again." 

"  Oh,  ay !  while  her  brother's  at  home.  He's  a 
splendid  man,  that  youncr  Mr.  Humphreys,  ain't 
he  ?  " 

"Oh,  /knew  that  a  great  while  ago,"  said  Ellen, 
the  bright  color  of  pleasure  overspreading  her  face. 

"Well,  /didn't,  you  see,  till  the  other  day, when 
he  came  here,  very  kindly,  to  see  how  I  was  get- 
ting on.  I  wish  something  would  bring  him  again, 
I  never  heerd  a  man  talk  I  liked  to  hear  so  much." 

Ellen  secretly  resolved  something  should  bring 
him  ;  and  went  on  with  a  purpose  she  had  had  for 
some  time  in  her  mind. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  pleasant,  while  you  are  lying 
there  and  can  do  nothing, — wouldn't  you  like  to 
have  me  read  something  to  you,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? 
/should  like  to,  very  much." 

"  It's  just  like  you,"  said  he,  gratefully, — "  to 
think  of  that ;  but  I  wouldn't  have  you  be  bothered 
with  it." 

"  It  wouldn't  indeed.  I  should  like  it  very 
much." 

"  Well,  if  you've  a  mind,"  said  he  ; — "  I  can't 
say  but  it  would  be  a  kind  o'  comfort  to  keep  that 
grain  out  o'  my  head  a  while.  Seems  to  me  I  have 
cut  and  housed  it  all  three  times   over,  already^ 


22 o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Read  just  whatever  you  have  a  mind  to.  If  you 
was  to  go  over  a  last  year's  almanac,  it  would  be  as 
good  as  a  fiddle  to  me." 

"  I'll  do  better  for  you  than  that,  Mr.  Van  Brunt," 
said  Ellen,  laughing  in  high  glee  at  having  gained 
her  point. — She  had  secretly  brought  her  Pilgrim's 
Progress  with  her,  and  now  with  marvelous  satis- 
faction drew  it  forth. 

"  I  ha'n't  been  as  much  of  a  reader  as  I  had 
ought  to,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  as  she  opened  the 
book  and  turned  to  the  first  page  ; — "  but,  however, 
I  understand  my  business  pretty  well ;  and  a  man 
•can't  be  everything  at  once.  Now  let's  hear  what 
you've  got  there." 

With  a  throbbing  heart,  Ellen  began  ;  and  read, 
notes  and  all,  till  the  sound  of  tramping  hoofs  and 
Alice's  voice  made  her  break  off.  It  encouraged 
and  delighted  her  to  see  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
attention  was  perfectly  fixed.  He  lay  still,  without 
moving  his  eyes  from  her  face,  till  she  stopped  ; 
then  thanking  her,  he  declared  that  was  a  "  first- 
rate  book,"  and  he  "  should  like  mainly  to  hear  the 
hull  on  it." 

From  that  time  Ellen  was  diligent  in  her  attend- 
ance on  him.  That  she  might  have  more  time 
for  reading  than  the  old  plan  gave  her,  she  set  off 
by  herself  alone  some  time  before  the  others,  of 
course  riding  home  with  them.  It  cost  her  a  little 
sometimes,  to  forego  so  much  of  their  company ; 
but  she  never  saw  the  look  of  grateful  pleasure 
with  which  she  was  welcomed  without  ceasing  to 
regret  her  self-denial.  How  Ellen  blessed  those 
notes  as  she  went  on  with  her  reading  !  They  said 
exactly  what  she  wanted  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  hear. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  221 

and  in  the  best  way,  and  were  too  short  and  sim- 
ple to  interrupt  the  interest  of  the  story.  After  a 
while  she  ventured  to  ask  if  she  might  read  him  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible.  He  agreed  very  readily ; 
owning,  "  he  hadn't  ought  to  be  so  long  without 
reading  one  as  he  had  been."  Ellen  then  made  it 
a  rule  to  herself,  without  asking  any  more  ques- 
tions, to  end  every  reading  with  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible ;  and  she  carefully  sought  out  those  that 
might  be  most  likely  to  take  hold  of  his  judgment 
or  feelings.  They  took  hold  of  her  own  very 
deeply,  by  this  means  ;  what  was  strong,  or  ten- 
der, before,  now  seemed  to  her  too  mighty  to  be 
withstood ;  and  Ellen  read  not  only  with  her  lips 
but  with  her  whole  heart  the  precious  words,  long- 
ing that  they  might  come  with  their  just  effect 
upon  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  mind. 

Once  as  she  finished  reading  the  tenth  chapter 
of  John,  a  favorite  chapter,  which  between  her  own 
feeling  of  it  and  her  strong  wish  for  him  had  moved 
her  even  to  tears,  she  cast  a  glance  at  his  face  to 
see  how  he  took  it.  His  head  was  a  little  turned 
to  one  side,  and  his  eyes  closed ;  she  thought  he 
was  asleep.  Ellen  was  very  much  disappointed. 
She  sank  her  head  upon  her  book  and  prayed  that 
a  time  might  come  when  he  would  know  the  worth 
of  those  words.    The  touch  of  his  hand  startled  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  he.  "  Are  you 
tired  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  looking  hastily  up  : — "  Oh,  no ! 
I'm  not  tired." 

"  But  what  ails  you  ?  "  said  the  astonished  Mr. 
Van  Brunt;  "what  have  you  been  a-crying  for? 
What's  the  matter  J>" 


222  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Ellen,  brushing  hei 
hand  over  her  eyes, — "  it's  no  matter." 

"Yes,  but  I  want  to  know,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ; 
— "  you  sha'n't  have  anything  to  vex  you  that  1 
can  help  ;  what  is  it  ? " 

"It  is  nothing,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  said  Ellen, 
bursting  into  tears  again, — "  only  I  thought  you 
were  asleep — I — I  thought  you  didn't  care  enough 
about  the  Bible  to  keep  awake — I  want  so  much 
that  you  should  be  a  Christian  !  " 

He  half  groaned  and  turned  his  head  away. 

"  What  makes  you  wish  that  so  much  ?  "  said  he, 
after  a  minute  or  two. 

"  Because  I  want  you  to  be  happy,"  said  Ellen, 
— "  and  I  know  you  can't  without." 

"Well,  I  am  pretty  tolerable  happy,"  said  he  ; — 
"as  happy  as  most  folks,  I  guess." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  be  happy  when  you  die,  too," 
said  Ellen  ; — "  I  want  to  meet  you  in  heaven." 

"  I  hope  I  will  go  there,  surely,"  said  he,  gravely, 
— "  when  the  time  comes." 

Ellen  was  uneasily  silent,  not  knowing  what  to 
say. 

"  I  ain't  as  good  as  I  ought  to  be,"  said  he, 
presently,  with  a  half  sigh  ; — "  I  ain't  good  enough 
to  go  to  heaven — I  wish  I  was.  You  are,  I  do  be- 
lieve." 

"  I  !  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  do  not  say  that ; 
— I  am  not  good  at  all — I  am  full  of  wrong 
things." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  was  full  of  wrong  things,  too,  in 
the  same  way,"  said  he. 

"  But  I  am,"  said  Ellen, — "  whether  you  will  be- 
lieve it  or  not.     Nobody  i?  ^ood,  Mr.  Van  Brunt 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  223 

But  Jesus  Christ  has  died  for  us, — and  if  we  ask 
Him  He  will  forgive  us,  and  wash  away  our  sins, 
and  teach  us  to  love  Him,  and  make  us  good,  and 
take  us  to  be  with  Him  in  heaven.  Oh,  I  wish 
you  would  ask  Him  !  "  she  repeated,  with  an  ear 
nestness  that  went  to  his  heart.  "  I  don't  believe 
any  one  can  be  very  happy  that  don't  love  Him." 

"  Is  that  what  makes  you  happy  ?  "   said  he. 

"  I  have  a  great  many  things  to  make  me  happy," 
said  Ellen,  soberly, — "but  that  is  the  greatest  of 
all.  It  always  makes  me  happy  to  think  of  Him, 
and  it  makes  everything  else  a  thousand  times 
pleasanter.  I  wish  you  knew  how  it  is,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt." 

He  was  silent  for  a  little,  and  disturbed,  Ellen 
thought. 

"  Well  !  "  said  he,  at  length,—"  t'ain't  the  folks 
that  thinks  themselves  the  best  that  is  the  best 
always  ; — if  you  ain't  good  I  should  like  to  know 
what  goodness  is.  There's  somebody  that  thinks 
you  be,"  said  he  a  minute  or  two  afterwards,  as 
the  horses  were  heard  coming  to  the  gate. 

"  No,  she  knows  me  better  than  that,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  It  isn't  any  she  that  I  mean,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. — "  There's  somebody  else  out  there,  ain't 
there  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Ellen,—"  Mr.  John  ?— Oh,  no, 
indeed  he  don't.  It  was  only  this  morning  he  was 
telling  me  of  something  I  did  that  was  wrong." — 
Her  eyes  watered  as  she  spoke. 

"  He  must  have  mighty  sharp  eyes,  then,"  said 
Mr.  Van  Brunt, — "  for  it  beats  all  my  powers  of  see* 
ing  things." 


224  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  And  so  he  has,"  said  Ellen,  putting  on  hei 
bonnet, — "  he  always  knows  what  I  am  thinking  of 
just  as  well  as  if  I  told  him.     Good-bye  !  " 

"  Good-bye,"  said  he  ;  "I  ha'n't  forgotten  what 
you've  been  saying,  and  I  don't  mean  to." 

How  full  of  sweet  pleasure  was  the  ride  home  ! 

The  "  something  wrong,"  of  which  Ellen  had 
spoken,  was  this.  The  day  before,  it  happened 
that  Mr.  John  had  broken  her  off  from  a  very 
engaging  book  to  take  her  drawing-lesson  :  and  as 
he  stooped  down  to  give  a  touch  or  two  to  the 
piece  she  was  to  copy,  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  you 
to  read  any  more  of  that,  Ellen  ;  it  is  not  a  good 
book  for  you."  Ellen  did  not  for  a  moment  ques- 
tion that  he  was  right,  nor  wish  to  disobey ;  but 
she  had  become  very  much  interested,  and  was  a 
good  deal  annoyed  at  having  such  a  sudden  stop 
put  to  her  pleasure.  She  said  nothing,  and  went 
on  with  her  work.  In  a  little  while  Alice  asked 
her  to  hold  a  skein  of  cotton  for  her  while  she 
wound  it.  Ellen  was  annoyed  again  at  the  inter- 
ruption ;  the  harpstrings  were  jarring  yet,  and 
gave  fresh  discord  at  every  touch.  She  had,  how- 
ever, no  mind  to  let  her  vexation  be  seen ;  she 
went  immediately  and  held  the  cotton,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  done  sat  down  again  to  her  draw- 
ing. Before  ten  minutes  had  passed  Margery 
came  to  set  the  table  for  dinner ;  Ellen's  papers 
and  desk  must  move. 

"  Why,  it  is  not  dinner-time  yet  this  great  while, 
Margery,"  said  she  ; — "  it  isn't  much  after  twelve." 

"  No,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  Margery  under  her 
breath,  for  John  was  in  one  corner  of  the  room 
reading, — ''but  by  and  by  I'll  be  busy  with  the 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  ^25 

chops  and  frying  the  salsify,  and  I  couldn't  leave 
the  kitchen  ; — if  you'll  let  me  have  the  table  now." 

Ellen  said  no  more,  and  moved  her  things  to  a 
stand  before  the  window ;  where  she  went  on  with 
her  copying  till  dinner  was  ready.  Whatever  the 
reason  was,  however,  her  pencil  did  not  work 
smoothly ;  her  eyes  did  not  see  true ;  and  she 
lacked  her  usual  steady  patience.  The  next  morn- 
ing, after  an  hour  and  more's  work  and  much  pains- 
taking, the  drawing  was  finished.  Ellen  had  quite 
forgotten  her  yesterday's  trouble.  But  when  John 
came  to  review  her  drawing,  he  found  several 
faults  with  it ;  pointed  out  two  or  three  places  in 
which  it  had  suffered  from  haste  and  want  of  care ; 
and  asked  her  how  it  had  happened.  Ellen  knew 
it  happened  yesterday.  She  was  vexed  again, 
though  she  did  her  best  not  to  show  it ;  she  stood 
quietly  and  heard  what  he  had  to  say.  He  then 
told  her  to  get  ready  for  her  riding  lesson. 

"  Mayn't  I  just  make  this  right  first  ? "  said  Ellen  ; 
— "  it  won't  take  me  long." 

"  No,"  said  he, — "  you  have  been  sitting  long 
enough ;  I  must  break  you  off.  The  Brownie  will 
be  here  in  ten  minutes." 

Ellen  was  impatiently  eager  to  mend  the  bad 
places  in  her  drawing,  and  impatiently  displeased 
at  being  obliged  to  ride  first.  Slowly  and  reluc- 
tantly she  went  to  get  ready  ;  John  was  already 
gone ;  she  would  not  have  moved  so  leisurely  if  he 
had  been  anywhere  within  seeing  distance.  As  it 
was,  she  found  it  convenient  to  quicken  her  move- 
ments ;  and  was  at  the  door  ready  as  soon  as  he 
and  the  Brownie.  She  was  soon  thoroughly  en- 
gaged in  the  management  of  herself  and  her  horse : 


226  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

a  little  smart  riding  shook  all  the  ill-humor  out  of 
her,  and  she  was  entirely  herself  again.  At  the 
end  of  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  they  drew  up  under 
the  shade  of  a  tree  to  let  the  Brownie  rest  a  little. 
It  was  a  warm  day  and  John  had  taken  off  his  hat 
and  stood  resting  too,  with  his  arm  leaning  on  the 
neek  of  the  horse.  Presently  he  looked  round  to 
Ellen,  and  asked  her,  with  a  smile,  if  she  felt  right 
again  ? 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Ellen,  the  crimson  of  her  cheeks 
mounting  to  her  forehead.  But  her  eye  sunk  im- 
mediately at  the  answering  glance  of  his.  He  then 
in  very  few  words  set  the  matter  before  her,  with 
such  a  happy  mixture  of  pointedness  and  kindness 
that  while  the  reproof,  coming  from  him,  went  to 
the  quick,  Ellen  yet  joined  with  it  no  thought  of 
harshness  or  severity.  She  was  completely  sub- 
dued, however ;  the  rest  of  the  riding-lesson  had  to 
be  given  up ;  and  for  an  hour  Ellen's  tears  could 
not  be  stayed.  But  it  was,  and  John  had  meant  it 
should  be,  a  strong  check  given  to  her  besetting 
sin.     It  had  a  long  and  lasting  effect. 

CHAPTER   XL. 

Speed,     But  tell  me  true,  will 't  be  a  match  ? 

Lawn.    Ask  my  dog ;  if  he  say,  ay,  it  will ;  if  he  say,  no,  it  will  ;  if  he 
shake  his  tail  and  say  nothing,  it  will. — Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

In  due  time  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  on  his  legs 
again,  much  to  everybody's  joy,  and  much  to  the 
advantage  of  fields,  fences,  and  grain.  Sam  and 
Johnny  found  they  must  "  spring  to,"  as  their  leader 
said  ;  and  Miss  Fortune  declared  she  was  thankful 
she  could  draw  a  long  breath  again,  for  do  what 
she  would  she  couldn't  be  everywhere.     Before  this 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  227 

John  and  the  Black  Prince  had  departed,  and  Alice 
and  Ellen  were  left  alone  again. 

"  How  long  will  it  be,  dear  Alice,"  said  Ellen,  as 
they  stood  sorrowfully  looking  down  the  road  by 
which  he  had  gone,  "  before  he  will  be  through  that 
— before  he  will  be  able  to  leave  Doncaster  ?  " 

"  Next  summer." 

"  And  what  will  he  do  then  ?  " 

"  Then  he  will  be  ordained." 

"  Ordained  ?— what  is  that  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  solemnly  set  apart  for  the  work  of 
the  ministry,  and  appointed  to  it  by  a  number  of 
clergymen." 

"  And  then  will  he  come  and  stay  at  home, 
Alice  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  then,  dear  Ellen,"  said  Alice, 
sighing ; — "  he  may  for  a  little  ;  but  papa  wishes 
very  much  that  before  he  is  settled  anywhere  he 
should  visit  England  and  Scotland  and  see  our 
friends  there.  Though  I  hardly  think  John  will  do 
it  unless  he  sees  some  further  reason  forgoing.  If 
he  do  not,  he  will  probably  soon  be  called  some- 
where— Mr.  Marshman  wants  him  to  come  to  Ran- 
dolph.    I  don't  know  how  it  will  be." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Ellen,  with  a  kind  of  acquiescing 
sigh, — "  at  any  rate  now  we  must  wait  until  next 
Christmas." 

The  winter  passed  with  little  to  mark  it  except 
the  usual  visits  to  Ventnor ;  which,  however,  by 
common  consent,  Alice  and  Ellen  had  agreed  should 
not  be  when  John  was  at  home.  At  all  other  times 
they  were  much  prized  and  enjoyed.  Every  two  or 
three  months,  Mr.  Marshman  was  sure  to  come  for 
them,  or  Mr.  Howard,  or  perhaps  the  carriage  only 


228  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

with  a  letter  j  and  it  was  bargained  for,  that  Mr. 
Humphreys  should  follow  to  see  them  home.  It 
was  not  always  that  Ellen  could  go,  but  the  disap- 
pointments were  seldom ;  she,  too,  had  become 
quite  domesticated  at  Ventnor,  and  was  sincerely 
loved  by  the  whole  family.  Many  as  were  the  times 
she  had  been  there,  it  had  oddly  happened  that  she 
had  never  met  her  old  friend  of  the  boat  again  ; 
but  she  was  very  much  attached  to  old  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Marshman,  and  Mrs.  Chauncey  and  her  daughter  ; 
the  latter  of  whom  reckoned  all  the  rest  of  her 
young  friends  as  nothing  compared  with  Ellen 
Montgomery.  Ellen,  in  her  opinion,  did  every- 
thing better  than  any  one  else  of  her  age. 

"  She  has  good  teachers,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  should  think  she  had.  Alice, 
— I  should  think  anybody  would  learn  well  with  her ; 
— and  Mr.  John — I  suppose  he's  as  good,  though  I 
don't  know  so  much  about  him  ;  but  he  must  be  a 
great  deal  better  teacher  than  Mr.  Sandford,  mam- 
ma, for  Ellen  draws  ten  times  as  well  as  I  do ! " 

"  Perhaps  that  is  your  fault  and  not  Mr.  Sand- 
ford's,"  said  her  mother, — "  though  I  rather  think 
you  overrate  the  difference." 

"  I  am  sure  I  take  pains  enough,  if  that's  all," 
said  the  little  girl ; — "  what  more  can  I  do,  mamma  ? 
But  Ellen  is  so  pleasant  about  it  always  ;  she  never 
seems  to  think  she  does  better  than  I  ;  and  she  is 
always  ready  to  help  me  and  take  ever  so  much 
time  to  show  me  how  to  do  things  ; — she  is  so 
pleasant ;  isn't  she,  mamma  ?  I  know  I  have  heard 
you  say  she  is  very  polite." 

"  She  is  certainly  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie, — 
"  and  there  is  a  grace  in  her  politeness   that  can 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  229 

only  proceed  from  great  natural  delicacy  and  re- 
finement of  character ;  how  she  can  have  such 
manners,  living  and  working  in  the  way  you  say 
she  does,  I  confess  is  beyond  my  comprehension." 

"  One  would  not  readily  forget  the  notion  of 
good-breeding  in  the  society  of  Alice  and  John 
Humphreys,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  And  Mr.  Humphreys,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"There  is  no  society  about  him,"  said  Miss 
Sophia  ; — "  he  don't  say  two  dozen  words  a  day." 

"  But  she  is  not  with  them,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie. 

"  She  is  with  them  a  great  deal,  Aunt  Matilda," 
said  Ellen  Chauncey, — "  and  they  teach  her  every- 
thing, and  she  does  learn  !  She  must  be  very  clever  ; 
don't  you  think  she  is,  mamma  ?  Mamma,  she 
beats  me  entirely  in  speaking  French,  and  she 
knows  all  about  English  history  ;  and  arithmetic  ! 
— and  did  you  ever  hear  her  sing,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  believe  she  beats  you,  as  you  call  it, 
in  generous  estimation  of  others,"  said  Mrs.  Chaun- 
cey, smiling,  and  bending  forward  to  kiss  her 
daughter — "  but  what  is  the  reason  Ellen  is  so  much 
better  read  in  history  than  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  mamma,  unless — I  wish  I  wasn't 
so  fond  of  reading  stories." 

"Ellen  Montgomery  is  just  as  fond  -~r  them, 
I'll  warrant,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  Yes, — oh,  I  know  she  is  fond  of  the.n ;  but 
then,  Alice  and  Mr.  John  don't  let  her  read  them, 
except  now  and  then  one." 

"  I  fancy  she  does  it  though,  when  their  backs 
are  turned,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie. 

"  She  !  Oh,  Aunt  Matilda  !  she  wouldn't  do  the 
least  thing  they  don't  like  for  the  whole  world.     I 


230  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

know  she  never  reads  a  story  when  she  is  here, 
unless  it  is  my  Sunday  books,  without  asking  Alice 
first." 

"  She  is  a  most  extraordinary  child  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Gillespie. 

"  She  is  a  good  child  !  "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  and  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  say  ; 
— I  do  not  think  Ellen  is  so  polite  because  she  is 
so  much  with  Alice  and  Mr.  John,  but  because  she 
is  so  sweet  and  good.  I  don't  think  she  could 
help  being  polite." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie ; — "  mere 
sweetness  and  goodness  would  never  give  so  much 
elegance  of  manner.  As  far  as  I  have  seen,  Ellen 
Montgomery  is  a  perfectly  well-behaved  child." 

"That  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey; — "but 
neither  would  any  cultivation  or  example  be  suffi- 
cient for  it,  without  Ellen's  thorough  good  principle 
and  great  sweetness  of  temper." 

"  That's  exactly  what  /  think,  mamma,"  said 
Ellen  Chauncey. 

Ellen's  sweetness  of  temper  was  not  entirely 
born  with  her ;  it  was  one  of  the  blessed  fruits  of 
religion  and  discipline.  Discipline  had  not  done 
with  it  yet.  When  the  winter  came  on,  and  the 
house-work  grew  less,  and  with  renewed  vigor  she 
was  bending  herself  to  improvement  in  all  sorts  of 
ways,  it  unluckily  came  into  Miss  Fortune's  head 
that  some  of  Ellen's  spare  time  might  be  turned  to 
account  in  a  new  line.  With  this  lady,  to  propose 
and  to  do  were  two  things  always  very  near  together. 
The  very  next  day  Ellen  was  summoned  to  help 
her  downstairs  with  the  big  spinning-wheel.  Most 
unsuspiciously,  and  with  her  accustomed  pleasant- 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  231 

ness,  Ellen  did  it.  But  when  she  was  sent  up 
again  for  the  rolls  of  wool,  and  Miss  Fortune,  after 
setting  up  the  wheel,  put  one  of  them  into  her  hand 
and  instructed  her  how  to  draw  out  and  twist  the 
thread  of  yarn,  she  saw  all  that  was  coming. 
She  saw  it  with  dismay.  So  much  yarn  as  Mis;* 
Fortune  might  think  it  well  she  should  spin,  so. 
much  time  must  be  taken  daily  from  her  beloved 
reading  and  writing,  drawing  and  studying ;  her 
very  heart  sunk  within  her.  She  made  no  remon- 
strance, unless  her  disconsolate  face  might  be 
thought  one.  She  stood  half  a  day  at  the  big 
spinning-wheel,  fretting  secretly,  while  Miss  Fortune 
went  round  with  an  inward  chuckle  visible  in  her 
countenance,  that  in  spite  of  herself  increased 
Ellen's  vexation.  And  this  was  not  the  annoyance 
of  a  day ;  she  must  expect  it  day  after  day  through 
the  whole  winter.  It  was  a  grievous  trial.  Ellen 
cried  for  a  great  while  when  she  got  to  her  own 
room,  and  a  long  hard  struggle  was  necessary  be- 
fore she  could  resolve  to  do  her  duty.  "  To  be 
patient  and  quiet ! — and  spin  nobody  knows  how 
much  yarn — and  my  poor  history  and  philosophy 
and  drawing  and  French  and  reading !  " — Ellen 
cried  very  heartily.  But  she  knew  what  she  ought 
to  do;  she  prayed  long,  humbly,  earnestly,  that 
"her  little  rushlight  might  shine  bright ;" — and  her 
aunt  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  her.  Sometimes, 
if  overpressed,  Ellen  would  ask  Miss  Fortune  to  let 
her  stop  ;  saying,  as  Alice  had  advised  her  that 
she  wished  to  have  her  do  such  and  such  things  ; 
Miss  Fortune  never  made  any  objection ;  and  the 
hours  of  spinning  that  wrought  so  many  knots  of 
yarn  for  her  aunt,  wrought  better  things  yet  for  the 


232  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

little  spinner ;  patience  and  gentleness  grew  with 
the  practice  of  them  ;  this  wearisome  work  was  one 
of  the  many  seemingly  untoward  things  which  in 
reality  bring  out  good.  The  time  Ellen  did  secure 
to  herself  was  held  the  more  precious  and  used  the 
more  carefully.  After  all  it  was  a  very  profitable 
and  pleasant  winter  to  her. 

John's  visit  came  as  usual  at  the  holidays  and 
was  enjoyed  as  usual ;  only  that  every  one  seemed 
to  Ellen  more  pleasant  than  the  last.  The  sole 
other  event  that  broke  the  quiet  course  of  things 
(beside  the  journeys  to  Ventnor)  was  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Van  Brunt.  This  happened  very  unexpectedly 
and  after  a  short  illness,  not  far  from  the  end  of 
January.  Ellen  was  very  sorry,  both  for  her  own 
sake  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt's,  who,  she  was  sure,  felt 
much,  though,  according  to  his  general  custom,  he 
said  nothing.  Ellen  felt  for  him  none  the  less. 
She  little  thought  what  an  important  bearing  this 
event  would  have  upon  her  own  future  well-being. 

The  winter  passed  and  the  spring  came.  One 
fine  mild  pleasant  afternoon,  early  in  May,  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  came  into  the  kitchen  and  asked  Ellen 
if  she  wanted  to  go  with  him  and  see  the  sheep 
salted.  Ellen  was  seated  at  the  table  with  a  large 
tin  pan  in  her  lap,  and  before  her  a  huge  heap  of 
white  beans  which  she  was  picking  over  for  the 
Saturday's  favorite  dish  of  pork  and  beans.  She 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  hopeless  face. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  very  much  indeed,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt/but  you  see  I  can't.     All  these  to  do  !  " 

"  Beans,  eh  ?  "•  said  he,  putting  one  or  two  in  his 
mouth.     "  Where's  your  aunt  ?  " 

Ellen  pointed  to  the  buttery.     He  immediately 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  233 

went  to  the  door  and  rapped  on  it  with  his  knuckles. 
"  Here,  ma'am,"  said  he, — "  can't  you  let  this  child 
go  with  me  ?  I  want  her  along  to  help  feed  the 
sheep." 

To  Ellen's  astonishment  her  aunt  called  to  her 
through  the  closed  door  to  "  go  along  and  leave  the 
beans  till  she  came  back."  Joyfully  Ellen  obeyed. 
She  turned  her  back  upon  the  beans,  careless  of 
the  big  heap  which  would  still  be  there  to  pick 
over  when  she  returned  ;  and  ran  to  get  her  bonnet. 
In  all  the  time  she  had  been  in  Thirlwall  some- 
thing had  always  prevented  her  seeing  the  sheep  fed 
with  salt,  and  she  went  eagerly  out  of  the  door  with 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  a  new  pleasure. 

They  crossed  two  or  three  meadows  back  of  the 
barn  to  a  low  rocky  hill  covered  with  trees.  On 
the  other  side  of  this  they  came  to  a  fine  field  of 
spring  wheat.  Footsteps  must  not  go  over  the 
young  grain  ;  Ellen  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  coasted 
carefully  round  by  the  fence  to  another  piece  of 
rocky  woodland  that  lay  on  the  far  side  of  the 
wheat-field.  It  was  a  very  fine  afternoon.  The 
grass  was  green  in  the  meadow  ;  the  trees  were  be- 
ginning to  show  their  leaves  ;  the  air  was  soft  and 
spring-like.  In  great  glee  Ellen  danced  along, 
luckily  needing  no  entertainment  from  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  who  was  devoted  to  his  salt-pan.  His  natural 
taciturnity  seemed  greater  than  ever ;  he  amused 
himself  all  the  way*over  the  meadow  with  turning 
over  his  salt  and  tasting  it,  till  Ellen  laughingly 
told  him  she  believed  he  was  as  fond  of  it  as  the 
sheep  were  ;  and  then  he  took  to  chucking  little 
bits  of  it  right  and  left,  at  anything  he  saw  that  was 
big  enough  to  serve  for  a  mark.     Ellen  stopped  him 


234  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

again  by  laughing  at  his  wastefulness ;  and  so  the} 
came  to  the  wood.  She  left  him  then  to  do  as  he 
liked,  while  she  ran  hither  and  thither  to  search  for 
flowers.  It  was  slow  getting  through  the  wood. 
He  was  fain  to  stop  and  wait  for  her. 

"  Aren't  these  lovely  ?  "  said  Ellen,  as  she  came 
up  with  her  hands  full  of  anemones, — "  and  look — 
there's  the  liverwort.  I  thought  it  must  be  out  be- 
fore now — the  dear  little  thing  ! — but  I  can't  find 
any  blood-root,  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

"  I  guess  they're  gone,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"  1  suppose  they  must,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  am 
sorry ;  I  like  them  so  much.  Oh,  I  believe  I  did 
get  them  earlier  than  this  two  years  ago,  when  I 
used  to  take  so  many  walks  with  you.  Only  think 
of  my  not  having  been  to  look  for  flowers  before, 
this  spring." 

"  It  hadn't  ought  to  ha'  happened  so,  that's  a 
fact,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  "  I  don't  know  how  it 
has." 

"  Oh,  there  are  my  yellow  bells  !  "  exclaimed 
Ellen  ; — "  oh,  you  beauties  !  Aren't  they,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  ?  " 

"  I  won't  say  but  what  I  think  an  ear  of  wheat's 
handsomer,"  said  he,  with  his  half  smile. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Van  Brunt !  how  can  you  ? — but  an 
ear  of  wheat's  pretty  too. — Oh,  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
what  is  that  ?  Do  get  me  some  of  it,  will  you, 
please  ?     Oh,  how  beautiful ! —  what  is  it  ? " 

"That's  black  birch,"  said  he;— "'tis  kind  o' 
handsome  ; — stop,  I'll  find  you  some  oak  blossoms 
directly. — There's  some  Solomon's  seal — do  you 
want  some  of  that  ?  " 

Ellen  sprang  to  it  with  exclamations  of  joy,  and 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  235 

before  she  could  rise  from  her  stooping  posture  dis 
covered  some  cowslips  to  be  scrambled  for.  Wild 
columbine,  the  delicate  corydalis,  and  more  uvu- 
larias,  which  she  called  yellow  bells,  were  added 
to  her  handful,  till  it  grew  a  very  elegant  bunch, 
indeed.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  looked  complacently  on, 
much  as  Ellen  would  at  a  kitten  running  round 
after  its  tail. 

"  Now,  I  won't  keep  you  any  longer,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,"  said  she,  when  her  hands  were  as  full  as 
they  could  hold  ; — "  I  have  kept  you  a  great  while  ; 
you  are  very  good  to  wait  for  me." 

They  took  up  their  line  of  march  again,  and  after 
crossing  the  last  piece  of  rocky  woodland,  came  to 
an  open  hill-side,  sloping  gently  up,  at  the  foot  of 
which  were  several  large  flat  stones. 

"  But  where  are  the  sheep,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 
said  Ellen. 

"  I  guess  they  ain't  fur,"  said  he.  "  You  keep 
quiet,  'cause  they  don't  know  you ;  and  they  are 
mighty  scary.  Just  stand  still  there  by  the  fence. — 
Ca-nan !  ca-nan !  Ca-nan,  nan,  nan,  nan,  nan, 
nan,  nan !  " 

This  was  the  sheep-call,  and  raising  his  voice 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  made  it  sound  abroad  far  over  the 
hills.  Again  and  again  it  sounded ;  and  then 
Ellen  saw  the  white  nose  of  a  sheep  at  the  edge  of 
the  woods  on  the  top  of  the  hill.  On  the  call's 
sounding  again  the  sheep  set  forward,  and  in  a 
long  train  they  came  running  along  a  narrow  foot- 
path down  towards  where  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was 
standing  with  his  pan.  The  soft  tramp  of  a  multi- 
tude of  light  hoofs  in  another  direction  turned 
Ellen's  eyes  that  way,  and  there  were  two  more 


236  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

single  files  of  sheep  running  down  the  hill  from 
different  points  in  the  woodland.  The  pretty 
things  came  scampering  along,  seeming  in  a  great 
hurry,  till  they  got  very  near ;  then  the  whole  mul- 
titude came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  looked  very 
wistfully  and  doubtfully  indeed  at  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
and  the  strange  little  figure  standing  so  still  by 
the  fence.  They  seemed  in  great  doubt,  every 
sheep  of  them,  whether  Mr.  Van  Brunt  were  not  a 
traitor,  who  had  put  on  a  friend's  voice  and  lured 
them  down  there  with  some  dark  evil  intent,  which, 
he  was  going  to  carry  out  by  means  of  that  same 
dangerous-looking  stranger  by  the  fence.  Ellen 
almost  expected  to  see  them  turn  about  and  go  as- 
fast  as  they  had  come.  But  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  gently 
repeating  his  call,  went  quietly  up  to  the  nearest 
stone  and  began  to  scatter  the  salt  upon  it,  full  in 
their  view.  Doubt  was  at  an  end  ;  he  had  hung 
out  the  white  flag;  they  flocked  down  to  the 
stones,  no  longer  at  all  in  fear  of  double-dealing, 
and  crowded  to  get  at  the  salt ;  the  rocks  where  it 
was  strewn  were  covered  with  more  sheep  than 
Ellen  would  have  thought  it  possible  could  stand 
upon  them.  They  were  like  pieces  of  floating  ice 
heaped  up  with  snow,  or  queen-cakes  with  an  im- 
moderately thick  frosting.  It  was  one  scene  oi 
pushing  and  crowding ;  those  which  had  not  had 
their  share  of  the  feast  forcing  themselves  up  to 
get  at  it,  and  shoving  others  off  in  consequence. 
Ellen  was  wonderfully  pleased.  It  was  a  new  and 
pretty  sight,  the  busy,  hustling  crowd  of  gentle 
creatures  ;  with  the  soft  noise  of  their  tread  upon 
grass  and  stones,  and  the  eager  devouring  of  the 
salt.     She  was  fixed  with    pleasure,   looking   and 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  237 

listening,  and  did  not  move  till  the  entertainment 
was  over,  and  the  body  of  the  flock  were  carelessly- 
scattering  here  and  there,  while  a  few  that  had 
perhaps  been  disappointed  of  their  part  still 
lingered  upon  the  stones  in  the  vain  hope  of  yet 
licking  a  little  saltness  from  them. 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  never  k^ew  what  salt 
was  worth  before.  How  they  do  love  it !  Is  it 
good  for  them,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 

"  Good  for  them  ?  "  said  he, — "  to  be  sure,  it  is 
good  for  them.  There  ain't  a  critter  that  walks, 
as  I  know,  that  it  ain't  good  for, — 'cept  chickens, 
and  it's  very  queer  it  kills  them." 

They  turned  to  go  homeward.  Ellen  had  taken 
the  empty  pan  to  lay  her  flowers  in,  thinking  it 
would  be  better  for  them  than  the  heat  of  her 
hand  ;  and  greatly  pleased  with  what  she  had  come 
to  see,  and  enjoying  her  walk  as  much  as  it  was 
possible,  she  was  going  home  very  happy ;  yet 
she  could  not  help  missing  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  old 
sociableness.  He  was  uncommonly  silent,  even 
for  him,  considering  that  he  and  Ellen  were  alone 
together ;  and  she  wondered  what  had  possessed 
him  with  a  desire  to  cut  down  all  the  young 
saplings  he  came  to,  that  were  large  enough 
for  walking  sticks.  He  did  not  want  to  make  any 
use  of  them,  that  was  certain,  for  as  fast  as  he  cut 
and  trimmed  out  one  he  threw  it  away  and  cut 
another.  Ellen  was  glad  when  they  got  out  into 
the  open  fields  where  there  were  none  to  be  found. 

"  It  is  just  about  this  time  a  year  ago,"  said  she, 
"  that  Aunt  Fortune  was  getting  well  of  her  long  fit 
of  sickness." 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  with  a  very  pro* 


238  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

found  air  ; — "  something  is  always  happening  most 
years." 

Ellen  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  this  very 
philosophical  remark. 

"  I  am  very  glad  nothing  is  happening  this  year," 
said  she  ; — "  I  think  it  is  a  great  deal  pleasanter  to 
have  things  go  on  quietly." 

"  Oh,  something  might  happen  without  hindering 
things  going  on  quietly,  I  s'pose, — mightn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  wonderingly  ; — "why, 
Mr.  Van  Brunt,  what  is  going  to  happen  ? " 

"  I  declare,"  said  he,  half  laughing, — "  you  are 
as  cute  as  a  razor  ;  I  didn't  say  there  was  anything 
going  to  happen,  did  I  ?  " 

"  Put  is  there  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  Ha'n't  your  aunt  said  nothing  to  you  about  it  ? " 

"Why,  no,"  said  Ellen, — "  she  never  tells  me 
anything ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  story  is,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,—"  at 
least,  I  know,  for  I've  understood  as  much  from 
herself,  that — I  believe  she's  going  to  be  married 
before  long." 

"  She  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen.  "  Married  ! — Aunt 
Fortune  !  " 

"  I  believe  so,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  making  a 
lunge  at  a  tuft  of  tall  grass  and  pulling  off  two  or 
three  spears  of  it,  which  he  carried  to  his  mouth. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  Ellen 
saw  nothing  in  earth,  air  or  sky,  and  knew  no 
longer  whether  she  was  passing  through  woodland 
or  meadow.  To  frame  words  into  another  sentence 
was  past  her  power.  They  came  in  sight  of  the 
barn  at  length.  She  would  not  have  much  more 
time. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  23* 

"  Will  it  be  soon,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ? " 

"  Why,  pretty  soon,  as  soon  as  next  week,  * 
guess  ;  so  I  thought  it  was  time  you  ought  to  be 
told.     Do  you  know  to  who  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know"  said  Ellen,  in  a  low  voice  ; — "  I 
couldn't  help  guessing." 

"  I  reckon  you've  guessed  about  right,"  said  he, 
without  looking  at  her. 

There  was  another  silence,  during  which  it 
seemed  to  Ellen  that  her  thoughts  were  -4un\bling 
head  over  heels,  they  were  in  such  confusion. 

"  The  short  and  long  of  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
as  they  rounded  the  corner  of  the  barn, — "  we  have 
made  up  our  minds  to  draw  in  the  same  yoke  ;  and 
we're  both  on  us  pretty  go-ahead  folks,  so  I  guess 
we'll  contrive  to  pull  the  cart  along.  I  had  just  as 
lieve  tell  you,  Ellen,  that  all  this  was  as  good  as 
settled  a  long  spell  back, — afore  ever  you  came  to 
Thirlwall ;  but  I  was  never  a-going  to  leave  my  old 
mother  without  a  home ;  so  I  stuck  to  her,  and 
would,  to  the  end  of  time,  if  I  had  never  been 
married.  But  now  she  is  gone,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  keep  me  to  the  old  place  any  longer. 
So  now  you  know  the  hull  on  it,  and  I  wanted  you 
should." 

With  this  particularly  cool  statement  of  his 
matrimonial  views,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  turned  off  into 
the  barn-yard,  leaving  Ellen  to  go  home  by  herself. 
She  felt  as  if  she  were  walking  on  air  while  she 
crossed  the  chip-yard,  and  the  very  house  had  a 
seeming  of  unreality.  Mechanically  she  put  her 
flowers  in  water,  and  sat  down  to  finish  the  beans  ; 
but  the  beans  might  have  been  flowers  and  the 
flowers  beans,  for  all   the  difference   Ellen  saw  in 


240  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

them.  Miss  Fortune  and  she  shunned  each  other's 
faces  most  carefully  for  a  long  time ;  Ellen  felt  it 
impossible  to  meet  her  eyes ;  and  it  is  a  matter  of 
great  uncertainty  which  in  fact  did  first  look  at  the 
other.  Other  than  this  there  was  no  manner  of 
difference  in  anything  without  or  within  the  house. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt's  being  absolutely  speechless  was 
not  a  very  uncommon  thing. 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Poor  little,  pretty,  fluttering  thing, 

Must  we  no  longer  live  together  ? 
And  dost  thou  prune  thy  trembling  wing 

To  take  thy  flight  thou  knowest  not  whither? 

Prior. 

As  soon  as  she  could  Ellen  carried  this  wonderful 
news  to  Alice,  and  eagerly  poured  out  the  whole 
story,  her  walk  and  all.  She  was  somewhat  dis- 
appointed at  the  calmness  of  her  hearer. 

"  But  you  don't  seem  half  as  surprised  as  I 
expected,  Alice  ;  I  thought  you  would  be  so  much 
surprised." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  all,  Ellie." 

"  Not ! — aren't  you  ? — why,  did  you  know  any- 
thing of  this  before  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know,  but  I  suspected.  I  thought  it 
was  very  likely.     I  am    very  glad  it  is  so." 

"  Glad  I  are  you  glad  ?  I  am  so  sorry  ; — why 
are  you  glad,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Why  are  you  sorry,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  ! — I  don't  know — it  seems  so 
queer  ! — I  don't  like  it  at  all.  I  am  very  sorry 
indeed." 

"  For  your  aunt's  sake,  or  for  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
sake?" 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  241 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  do  you  think  he  or  she  will  be  a  loser 
by  the  bargain  ?  " 

"  Why,  he,  to  be  sure  ;  I  think  he  will ;  I  don't 
think  she  will.  I  think  he  is  a  great  deal  too  good. 
And  besides — I  wonder  if  he  wants  to  really  ; — it 
was  settled  so  long  ago — maybe  he  has  changed 
his  mind  since." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  think  so,  Ellie  ? "  said 
Alice,  smiling. 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  think  he  seemed  par- 
ticularly glad." 

"  It  will  be  safest  to  conclude  that  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  knows  his  own  mind,  my  dear  ;  and  it  is 
certainly  pleasanter  for  us  to  Jiope  so." 

"  But  then,  besides,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  face  of 
great  perplexity  and  vexation, — "  I  don't  know — it 
don't  seem  right !  How  can  I  ever — must  I — do 
you  think  I  shall  have  to  call  him  anything  but  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  ?  " 

Alice  could  not  help  smiling  again. 

"  What  is  your  objection,  Ellie  ?  " 

"Why,  because  I  can't — I  couldn't  do  it,  some- 
how. It  would  seem  so  strange.  Must  I,  Alice  ? 
Why  in  the  world  are  you  glad,  dear  Alice  ?  " 

"It  smooths  my  way  for  a  plan  I  have  had  in  my 
head  ;  you  will  know  by  and  by  why  I  am  glad, 
Ellie." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  if  you  are  glad,"  said  Ellen, 
sighing  ; — "  I  don't  know  why  I  was  so  sorry,  but  I 
couldn't  help  it ;  I  suppose  I  sha'n't  mind  it  after 
a  while." 

She  sat  for  a  few  minutes,  musing  over  the  pos- 
sibility or  impossibility  of  ever  forming  her  lips  to 
t6 


242  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

the  words  "  Uncle  Abraham,"  "  Uncle  Van  Brunt," 
or  barely  "  Uncle,"  her  soul  rebelled  against  all 
three.  "  Yet  if  he  should  think  me  unkind. — ■ 
Then  I  must, — oh,  rather  fifty  times  over  than 
that !  "  Looking  up,  she  saw  a  change  in  Alice's 
countenance,  and  tenderly  asked, — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  Alice  ?  what  are  you 
thinking  about  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking,  Ellie,  how  I  shall  tell  you  some- 
thing that  will  give  you  pain." 

"  Pain !  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  giving  me 
pain,"  said  Ellen,  fondly,  throwing  her  arms  around 
her  ; — "  tell  me,  dear  Alice  ;  is  it  something  I  have 
done  that  is  wrong  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

Alice  kissed  her,  and  burst  into  tears. 

'  What  is  the  matter,  oh,  dear  Alice  ! "  said 
Ellen,  encircling  Alice's  head  with  both  her  arms: 
— "  oh,  don't  cry  !  do  tell  me  what  it  is  !  " 

"  It  is  only  sorrow  for  you,  dear  Ellie." 

"  But  why  ?  "  said  Ellen  in  some  alarm  ; — "  why 
are  you  sorry  for  me?  I  don't  care  if  it  don't 
trouble  you,  indeed  I  don't !  Never  mind  me ;  is 
it  something  that  troubles  you,  dear  Alice  ?  " 

"  No — except  for  the  effect  it  may  have  on 
others." 

"  Then  I  can  bear  it,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  you  need 
not  be  afraid  to  tell  me,  dear  Alice  ; — what  is  it  t 
don't  be  sorry  for  me  !  " 

But  the  expression  of  Alice's  face  was  such  that 
she  could  not  help  being  afraid  to  hear ;  she 
anxiously  repeated,  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

Alice  fondly  smoothed  back  the  hair  from  her 
brow,  looking  herself  somewhat  anxiously  and 
somewhat  sadly  upon  the  uplifted  face. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  243 

"  Suppose,  Ellie,"  she  said  at  length — "  that  you 
and  I  were  taking  a  journey  together — a  trouble- 
some, dangerous  journey — and  that  /had a  way  of 
getting  at  once  safe  to  the  end  of  it ; — would  you 
be  willing  to  let  me  go,  and  you  do  without  me  for 
the  rest  of  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  you  should  take  me  with  you," 
said  Ellen,  in  a  kind  of  maze  of  wonder  and  fear ; 
— "  why,  where  are  you  going,  Alice  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  am  going  home,  Ellie, — before  you." 

"  Home  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes, — home  I  feel  it  to  be ;  it  is  not  a  strange 
land  ;  I  thank  God  it  is  my  home  I  am  going  to." 
Ellen  sat  looking  at  her,  stupefied. 

"  It  is  your  home  too,  love,  I  trust  and  believe/' 
said  Alice,  tenderly ; — "  we  shall  be  together  at 
last.  I  am  not  sorry  for  myself ;  I  only  grieve  to 
leave  you  alone, — and  others, — but  God  knows 
best.     We  must  both  look  to  Him." 

"  Why,  Alice,"  said  Ellen,  starting  up  suddenly, 
— "  what  do  you  mean  ?  what  do  you  mean  ? — I 
don't  understand  you — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Do  you  not  understand  me,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  But,  Alice  ! — but,  Alice — dear  Alice  —  what 
makes  you  say  so  ?  Is  there  anything  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Do  I  look  well,  Ellie  ? " 

With  an  eye  sharpened  to  painful  keenness, 
Ellen  sought  in  Alice's  face  for  the  tokens  of  what 
she  wished  and  what  she  feared.  It  had  once  or 
twice  lately  flitted  through  her  mind  that  Alice  was 
very  thin,  and  seemed  to  want  her  old  strength, 
whether  in  riding,  or  walking,  or  any  other  exer- 
tion ;  and  it  had  struck  her  that  the  bright  spots  of 


244  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

color  in  Alice's  face  were  just  like  what  hei 
mother's  cheeks  used  to  wear  in  her  last  illness. 
These  thoughts  had  just  come  and  gone  ;  but  now 
as  she  recalled  them  and  was  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge the  justness  of  them,  and  her  review  of 
Alice's  face  pressed  them  home  anew, — hope  for  a 
moment  faded.     She  grew  white,  even  to  her  lips. 

"  My  poor  Ellie  !  my  poor  Ellie  ! "  said  Alice, 
pressing  her  little  sister  to  her  bosom, — "  it  must 
be  !  We  must  say  \  the  Lord's  will  be  done  ; ' — we 
must  not  forget  He  does  all  things  well." 

But  Ellen  rallied;  she  raised  her  head  again; 
she  could  not  believe  what  Alice  had  told  her.  To 
her  mind  it  seemed  an  evil  too  great  to  happen  ;  it 
could  not  be  !  Alice  saw  this  in  her  look,  and 
again  sadly  stroked  the  hair  from  her  brow.  "  It 
must  be,  Ellie,"  she  repeated. 

"  But  have  you  seen  somebody  ? — have  you  asked 
somebody  ?  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  some  doctor  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen,  and  I  have  asked,"  said  Alice ; — 
"  it  was  not  necessary,  but  I  have  done  both.  They 
think  as  I  do." 

"  But  these  Thirlwall  doctors " 

"  Not  them  ;  I  did  not  apply  to  them.  I  saw  an 
excellent  physician  at  Randolph,  the  last  time  I  went 
to  Ventnor." 

"  And  he  said " 

"  As  I  have  told  you." 

Ellen's  countenance  fell — fell. 

"  It  is  easier  for  me  to  leave  you  than  for  you  to 
be  left, — I  know  that,  my  dear  little  Ellie!  You 
have  no  reason  to  be  sorry  for  me —  I  am  sorry 
for  you  ;  but  the  hand  that  is  taking  me  away  is  one 
that  will  touch  neither  of  us  but  to  do  us  good  ; — I 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  245 

know  that,  too.  We  must  both  look  away  to  our 
dear  Saviour,  and  not  for  a  moment  doubt  His  love. 
I  do  not — you  must  not.  Is  it  not  said  that  '  He 
loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus '  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,  who  never  stirred  her  eyes. 
from  Alice's. 

"  And  might  he  not — did  it  not  rest  with  a  word 
from  his  lips,  to  keep  Lazarus  from  dying,  and  save 
his  sisters  from  all  the  bitter  sorrow  his  death, 
caused  them  ?  " 

Again  Ellen  said  "yes,"  or  her  lips  seemed  to< 
say  it. 

"And  yet  there  were  reasons,  good  reasons,  why 
he  should  not,  little  as  poor  Martha  and  Mary  could 
understand  it. — But  had  he  at  all  ceased  to  lave  them 
when  he  bade  all  that  trouble  come  ?  Do  you  re- 
member, Ellie — oh,  how  beautiful  those  words  are  I 
— when  at  last  he  arrived  near  the  place,  and  first 
one  sister  came  to  him  with  the  touching  reminder 
that  he  might  have  saved  them  from  this,  and  then; 
the  other, — weeping  and  falling  at  his  feet,  and  re- 
peating, '  Lord  if  Thou  hadst  been  here  !  ■ — when 
He  saw  their  tears,  and  more,  saw  the  torn  hearts 
that  tears  could  not  ease, — He  even  wept  with  them 
too  !  Oh,  I  thank  God  for  those  words  !  He  saw 
reason  to  strike,  and  His  hand  did  not  spare  ;  but 
His  love  shed  tears  for  them !  and  He  is  just  the 
same  now." 

Some  drops  fell  from  Alice's  eyes,  not  sorrowful 
ones  ;  Ellen  had  hid  her  face. 

"  Let  us  never  doubt  His  love,  dear  Ellie,  and 
surely  then  we  can  bear  whatever  that  love  may- 
bring  upon  us.  I  do  trust  it.  I  do  believe  it  shall 
be  well  with  them  that  fear  God.     I  believe  it  will 


246  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

be  well  for  me  when  I  die, — well  for  you,  my  dear, 
dear  Ellie, — well  even  for  my  father " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  afraid  to  trust 
herself. — But  oh,  Ellen  knew  what  it  would  have 
been  ;  and  it  suddenly  startled  into  life  all  the  load 
of  grief  that  had  been  settling  heavily  on  her  heart. 
Her  thoughts  had  not  looked  that  way  before  ; — 
now  when  they  did,  this  new  vision  of  misery  was 
too  much  to  bear.  Quite  unable  to  contain  herself, 
and  unwilling  to  pain  Alice  more  than  she  could 
help,  with  a  smothered  burst  of  feeling  she  sprang 
away,  out  of  the  door,  into  the  woods,  where  she 
would  be  unseen  and  unheard. 

And  there  in  the  first  burst  of  her  agony,  Ellen 
almost  thought  she  should  die.  Her  grief  had  not 
now  indeed  the  goading  sting  of  impatience ;  she 
knew  the  hand  that  gave  the  blow,  and  did  not 
raise  her  own  against  it ;  she  believed  too  what 
Alice  had  been  saying,  and  the  sense  of  it  was,  in  a 
manner,  present  with  her  in  her  darkest  time.  But 
her  spirit  died  within  her  ;  she  bowed  her  head  as 
if  she  were  never  to  lift  it  up  again  ;  and  she  was 
ready  to  say  with  Job,  "  what  good  is  my  life  to 
me?" 

It  was  long,  very  long  after,  when  slowly  and 
mournfully  she  came  in  again  to  kiss  Alice  before 
going  back  to  her  aunt's.  She  would  have  done  it 
hurriedly  and  turned  away  ;  but  Alice  held  her  and 
looked  sadly  for  a  minute  into  the  woe-begone  little 
face,  then  clasped  her  close,  and  kissed  her  again 
and  again. 

"  Oh,  Alice,"  soboed  Ellen  on  her  neck, — "  aren't 
you  mistaken  ?  maybe  you  are  mistaken  ? " 

■"  I    am  not  mistaken,  my   dear    Ellie,    my  own 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  24? 

Ellie,"  said  Alice's  clear  sweet  voice  j — "  not  sorry, 
except  for  others.  I  will  talk  with  you  more  about 
this.  You  will  be  sorry  for  me  at  first,  and  then, 
I  hope,  you  will  be  glad.  It  is  only  that  I  am  go- 
ing home  a  little  before  you.  Remember  what  I 
was  saying  to  you  a  while  ago.  Will  you  tell  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  that  I  should  like  to  see  him  for  a  few 
minutes  some  time  when  he  has  leisure  ? — And 
come  to  me  early  to-morrow,  love." 

Ellen  could  hardly  get  home.  Her  blinded  eyes 
could  not  see  where  she  was  stepping  ;  and  again 
and  again  her  fullness  of  heart  got  the  better  of 
everything  else,  and  unmindful  of  the  growing  twi- 
light she  sat  down,  on  a  stone  by  the  wayside  or 
flung  herself  on  the  ground  to  let  sorrow  have  full 
sway.  In  one  of  these  fits  of  bitter  struggling  with 
pain,  there  came  on  her  mind,  like  a  sunbeam 
across  a  cloud,  the  thought  of  Jesus  weeping  at  the 
grave  of  Larazus.  It  came  with  singular  power. 
Did  He  love  them  so  well?  thought  Ellen — and  is 
He  looking  down  upon  us  with  the  same  tenderness 
even  now  ? — She  felt  that  the  sun  was  shining  still, 
though  the  cloud  might  be  between  ;  her  broken 
heart  crept  to  His  feet  and  laid  its  burden  there, 
and  after  a  few  minutes  she  rose  up  and  went  on 
her  way,  keeping  that  thought  still  close  to  her 
heart.  The  unspeakable  tears  that  were  shed  dur- 
ing those  few  minutes  were  that  softened  outpour- 
ing of  the  heart  that  leaves  it  eased.  Very,  very 
sorrowful  as  she  was,  she  went  on  calmly  now  and 
stopped  no  more 

It  was  getting   dark,  and  a  little    wa}-   from  the 
gate,  on  the  road,  she  met  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

'*  Why,  I  was  beginning  to  get  scared  about  you," 


248  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

said  he.  "  I  was  coming  to  see  where  you  was. 
How  come  you  so  late  ?  " 

Ellen  made  no  answer,  and  as  she  now  came 
nearer  and  he  could  see  more  distinctly,  his  tone 
changed. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  he, — "  you  ha'n't 
been  well !  what  has  happened  ?  what  ails  you, 
Ellen  ? " 

In  astonishment,  and  then  in  alarm,  he  saw  that 
she  was  unable  to  speak,  and  anxiously  and  kindly 
begged  her  to  let  him  know  what  was  the  matter, 
and  if  he  could  do  anything.  Ellen  shook  her 
head. 

"  Ain't  Miss  Alice  well  ?  "  said  he  ; — "  you  ha'n't 
heered  no  bad  news  up  there  on  the  hill,  have  you  ? " 

Ellen  was  not  willing  to  answer  this  question 
with  yea  or  nay.  She  recovered  herself  enough  to 
give  him  Alice's  message. 

"  I'll  be  sure  and  go,"  said  he — "  but  you  ha'n't 
told  me  yet  what's  the  matter !  Has  anything, 
happened  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,— "  Don't  ask  me— she'll  tell 
you — don't  ask  me." 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  up  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
then,  "  said  he, — "  before  breakfast." 

"No,"  said  Ellen, — "better  not — perhaps  she 
wouldn't  be  up  so  early." 

"  After  breakfast  then, — I'll  go  up  right  after 
breakfast.  I  was  a-going  with  the  boys  up  into 
that  'ere  wheat  lot,  but  anyhow  I'll  do  that  first." 
They  won't  have  a  chance  to  do  much  bad  or  good 
before  I  get  back  to  them,  I  reckon." 

As  soon  as  possible  she  made  her  escape  from 
Miss  Fortune's  eye  and  questions  of  curiosity,  which 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  249 

she  could  not  bear  to  answer,  and  got  to  her  own 
room.  There  the  first  thing  she  did  was  to  find  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  John.  She  read  it  as  she  never 
had  read  it  before, — she  found  in  it  what  she  had 
never  found  before ;  one  of  those  cordials  that  none 
but  the  sorrowing  drink.  On  the  love  of  Christ, 
as  there  shown,  little  Ellen's  heart  fastened ;  and 
with  that  one  sweetening  thought  amid  all  its  deep 
sadness,  her  sleep  that  night  might  have  been 
envied  by  many  a   luxurious  roller  in  pleasure. 

At  Alice's  wish  she  immediately  took  up  her 
quarters  at  the  parsonage,  to  leave  her  no  more. 
But  she  could  not  see  much  difference  in  her  from 
what  she  had  been  for  several  weeks  past ;  and 
with  the  natural  hopefulness  of  childhood,  her  mind 
presently  almost  refused  to  believe  the  extremity 
of  the  evil  which  had  been  threatened.  Alice  her- 
self was  constantly  cheerful,  and  sought  by  all 
means  to  further  Ellen's  cheerfulness ;  though 
careful,  at  the  same  time,  to  forbid,  as  far  as  she 
could,  the  rising  of  the  hope  she  saw  Ellen  was  in- 
clined to  cherish. 

One  evening  they  were  sitting  together  at  the 
window,  looking  out  upon  the  same  old  lawn  and 
distant  landscape,  now  in  all  the  fresh  greenness  of 
the  young  spring.  The  woods  were  not  yet  in  full 
leaf ;  and  the  light  of  the  setting  sun  upon  the 
trees  bordering  the  other  side  of  the  lawn  showed 
them  in  the  most  exquisite  and  varied  shadows  of 
color.  Some  had  the  tender  green  of  the  newleafr 
some  were  in  the  red  or  yellow  browns  of  the  half- 
opened  bud  ;  others  in  various  stages  of  forward- 
ness, mixing  all  the  tints  between,  and  the  ever- 
greens   standing  dark  as  ev^r,  setting  off  the    deli- 


250  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

cate  hues  of  the  surrounding  foliage.  This  was  all 
softened  off  in  the  distance ;  the  very  light  of  the 
spring  was  mild  and  tender  compared  with  that  of 
other  seasons ;  and  the  air  that  stole  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  and  came  in  at  the  open  win- 
dow was  laden  with  aromatic  fragrance.  Alice  and 
Ellen  had  been  for  some  time  silently  breathing  it 
and  gazing  thoughtfully  on  the  loveliness  that  was 
abroad. 

"  I  used  to  think,"  said  Alice,  "  that  it  must  be 
a  very  hard  thing  to  leave  such  a  beautiful  world. 
Did  you  ever  think  so,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  faintly, — "  I  don't 
remember." 

"  I  used  to  think  so,"  said  Alice.  "  But  I  do  not 
now,  Ellie ;  my  fe.eling  has  changed. — Do  you  feel 
so  now,   Ellie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  why  do  you  talk  about  it,  dear  Alice  ?  " 

"  For  many  reasons,  dear  Ellie.  Come  here  and 
sit  in  my  lap  again." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  cannot  bear  it." 

"  Yes,  I  can.  Sit  here,  and  let  your  head  rest 
where  it  used  to  ;  " — and  Alice  laid  her  cheek  upon 
Ellen's  forehead  ; —  "  you  are  a  great  comfort  to  me., 
dear  Ellie." 

"  Ohr  Alice,  don't  say  so — you'll  kill  me !  "  ex- 
claimed Ellen,  in  great  distress. 

"Why  should  I  not  say  so,  love?"  said  Alice, 
soothingly.  "  I  like  to  say  it,  and  you  will  be  glad 
to  know  it  by  and  by.  You  are  a  great  comfort  to 
me." 

"  And  what  have  you  been  to  me  !  "  said  Ellen, 
weeping  bitterly. 

"  What  I  cannot  be  much  longer ;  and  I  want  to 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  251 

accustom  you  to  think  of  it,  and  to  think  of  it  rightly. 
I  want  you  to  know  that  if  I  am  sorry  at  all  in  the 
thought,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  others,  not  myself. 
Ellie,  you  yourself  will  be  glad  for  me  in  a  little 
while ; — you  will  not  wish  me  back." 

Ellen  shook  her  head. 

"  I  know  you  will  not — after  a  while  ; — and  I  shalt 
leave  yon  in  good  hands — I  have  arranged  for  that* 
my  dear  little  sister  !  " 

The  sorrowing  child  neither  knew  nor  cared 
what  she  meant,  but  a  mute  caress  answered  the 
spirit  of  Alice's  words. 

"  Look  up,  Ellen, — look  out  again.  Lovely — 
lovely !  all  that  is, — but  I  know  heaven  is  a  great 
deal  more  lovely.  Feasted  as  our  eyes  are  with- 
beauty,  I  believe  that  eye  has  not  seen,  nor  heart 
imagined  the  things  that  God  has  prepared  for 
them  that  love  Him.  You  believe  that,  Ellie  ;  you 
must  not  be  so  very  sorry  that  I  have  gone  to  see 
it  a  little  before  you." 

Ellie  could  say  nothing. 

"  After  all,  Ellie,  it  is  not  beautiful  things  nor  a 
beautiful  world  that  make  people  happy — it  is  lov- 
ing and  being  loved ;  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I 
am  happy  in  the  thought  of  heaven.  I  shall,  if  he 
receives  me,  I  shall  be  with  my  Saviour ;  I 
shall  see-Him  and  know  Him,  without  any  of  the 
clouds  that  come  between  here.  I  am  often  for- 
getting and  displeasing  Him  now, — never  serving 
Him  well  nor  loving  Him  right.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
find  myself  where  all  that  will  be  done  with  for- 
ever. I  shall  be  like  Him  ! — Why  do  you  cry  sot 
Ellie  ?  "  said  Alice,  tenderly. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Alice," 


352  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  It  is  only  my  love  for  you — and  for  two  more 
— that  could  make  me  wish  to  stay  here, — nothing 
<else ; — and  I  give  all  that  up,  because  I  do  not 
know  what  is  best  for  you  or  myself.  And  I  look 
to  meet  you  all  again  before  long.  Try  to  think  of 
it  as  I  do,  Ellie." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  without  you  ? "  said  poor 
Ellen. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Ellie.  You  must  come  here  and 
take  my  place,  and  take  care  of  those  I  leave  be- 
hind ;  will  you  ?-— and  they  will  take  care  of  you." 

"  But,"  said  Ellen,  looking  up  eagerly,  "  Aunt 
Fortune " 

"  I  have  managed  all  that.  Will  you  do  it, 
Ellie  ?  I  shall  feel  easy  and  happy  about  you,  and 
far  easier  and  happier  about  my  father,  if  I  leave 
you  established  here,  to  be  to  him  as  far  as  you 
can,  what  I  have  been.  Will  you  promise  me, 
Ellie  ?  " 

In  words  it  was  not  possible  ;  but  what  silent 
kisses,  and  the  close  pressure  of  the  arms  round 
Alice's  neck  could  say,  was  said. 

"  I  am  satisfied,  then,"  said  Alice,  presently. 
"  My  father  will  be  your  father — think  him  so,  dear 
Ellie, — and  I  know  John  will  take  care  of  you. 
And  my  place  will  not  be  empty.  I  am  very,  very 
glad." 

Ellen  felt  her  place  surely  would  be  empty,  but 
she  could  not  say  so. 

"  It  was  for  this  I  was  so  glad  of  your  aunt's  mar- 
riage, Ellie,"  Alice  soon  went  on.  "  I  foresaw  she 
might  raise  some  difficulties  in  my  way, — hard  to 
remove  perhaps  ;  but  now  I  have  seen  Mr.  Van 
Brunt,  and  he  has  promised  me  that  nothing  shall 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  KID.  253 

hinder  your  taking  up  your  abode  and  making  your 
home  entirely  here.  Though  I  believe,  Ellie,  he 
would  truly  have  loved  to  have  you  in  his  own 
house." 

"lam  sure  he  would,"  said  Ellen,  "but  oh, 
how  much  rather " 

"He  behaved  very  well  about  it  the  other  morn- 
ing,— in  a  very  manly,  frank,  kind  way, — showed  a 
good  deal  of  feeling  I  think,  too.  He  gave  me  to 
understand  that  for  his  own  sake  he  should  be  ex- 
tremely sorry  to  let  you  go  ;  but  he  assured  me 
that  nothing  over  which  he  had  any  control  should 
stand  in  the  way  of  your  good." 

"  He  is  very  kind — he  is  very  good — he  is  always 
so,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  love  Mr.  Van  Brunt  very  much. 
He  always  was  as  kind  to  me  as  he  could  be." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Alice  was 
looking  out  of  the  window  again.  The  sun  had 
set,  and  the  coloring  of  all  without  was  graver. 
Yet  it  was  but  the  change  from  one  beauty  to 
another.  The  sweet  air  seemed  still  sweeter  than 
before  the  sun  went  down. 

"  You  must  be  happy,  dear  Ellie,  in  knowing  that 
I  am.  I  am  happy  now.  I  enjoy  all  this,  and  I 
love  you  all, — but  I  can  leave  it  andean  leave  you, 
— yes, — both, — for  I  would  see  Jesus  !  He  who  has 
taught  me  to  love  Him  will  not  forsake  me  now. 
Goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the 
days  of  my  life,  and  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  forever.  I  thank  Him  ?  Oh,  I  thank 
Him  !  " 

Alice's  face  did  not  belie  her  words,  though  her 
syes  shone  through  tears. 

"  Ellie,  dear, — you  must  love  Him  with  all  your 


254  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

heart,  and  live  constantly  in  His  presence,  x 
know  if  you  do  He  will  make  you  happy,  in  any 
event.  He  can  always  give  more  than  He  takes 
away.  Oh,  how  good  He  is  ! — and  what  wretched 
returns  we  make  Him  ! — I  was  miserable  when 
John  first  went  away  to  Doncaster ;  I  did  not 
know  how  to  bear  it.  But,  now,  Ellie,  I  think  I 
can  see  it  has  done  me  good,  and  I  can  even  be 
thankful  for  it.  All  things  are  ours — all  things ; 
— the  world,  and  life,  and  death  too." 

"  Alice,"  said  Ellen,  as  well  as  she  could, — "  you 
know  what  you  were  saying  to  me  the  other  day  ? " 

"  About  what,  love  ?  " 

"  That  about — you  know, — that  chapter -" 

"  About  the  death  of  Lazarus  ?  " 

"  Yes.     It  has  comforted  me  very  much." 

"  So  it  has  me,  Ellie.  It  has  been  exceeding 
sweet  to  me  at  different  times.  Come,  sing  to  me, 
— •  How  firm  a  foundation.'  " 

From  time  to  time  Alice  led  to  this  kind  of  con- 
versation, both  for  Ellen's  sake  and  her  own 
pleasure.  Meanwhile  she  made  her  go  on  with  all 
her  usual  studies  and  duties  ;  and  but  for  these 
talks  Ellen  would  have  scarce  known  how  to 
believe  that  it  could  be  true  which  she  feared. 

The  wedding  of  Miss  Fortune  and  Mr.  Vaa 
Brunt  was  a  very  quiet  one.  It  happened  at  far  too 
busy  a  time  of  year,  and  they  were  too  cool  calcu- 
lators, and  looked  upon  their  union  in  much  too 
business-like  a  point  of  view,  to  dream  of  such  a 
wild  thing  as  a  wedding-tour,  or  even  resolve  upon 
so  troublesoms  a  thing  as  a  wedding-party.  Miss 
Fortune  would  not  have  left  her  cheese  and  butter 
making  to  see  all  the  New  Yorks  and  Bostons  that 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  255 

ever  were  built ;  and  she  would  have  scorned  a 
trip  to  Randolph.  And  Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  as 
certainly  have  wished  himself  all  the  while  back 
among  his  furrows  and  crops.  So  one  day  they 
were  quietly  married  at  home,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark 
having  been  fetched  from  Thirlwall  for  the  purpose. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  would  have  preferred  that  Mr. 
Humphreys  should  perform  the  ceremony ;  but 
Miss  Fortune  was  quite  decided  in  favor  of  the 
Thirlwall  gentleman,  and  of  course  he  it  was. 

The  talk  ran  high  all  over  the  country  on  the 
subject  of  this  marriage,  and  opinions  were  greatly 
divided ;  some  congratulating  Mr.  Van  Brunt  on 
having  made  himself  one  of  the  richest  land- 
holders "  in  town  "  by  the  junction  of  another  fat 
farm  to  his  own  ;  some  pitying  him  for  having  got 
more  than  his  match  within  doors,  and  "  guessing 
he'd  missed  his  reckoning  for  once." 

"  If  he  has,  then,"  said  Sam  Larkens,  who  heard 
some  of  these  condoling  remarks,—"  it's  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  I  can  tell  you.  If  she  ain't  a  little 
mistaken,  I  wish  I  mayn't  get  a  month's  wages  in  a 
year  to  come.  I  tell  you,  you  don't  know  Van  Brunt ; 
he's  as  easy  as  anybody  as  long  as  he  don't 
care  about  what  you're  doing ;  but  if  he  once  takes 
a  notion  you  can't  make  him  gee  nor  haw  no  more 
than  you  can  our  near  ox  Timothy  when  he's  out 
o'  yoke ;  and  he's  as  ugly  a  beast  to  manage  as 
ever  1  see  when  he  ain't  yoked  up.  Why,  bless 
you  !  there  ha'n't  been  a  thing  done  on  the  farm  this 
five  year  but  just  what  he  liked — she  don't  know  it. 
I've  heerd  her,"  said  Sam,  chuckling, — "  I've  heerd 
her  a-telling  him  how  she  wanted  this  thing  done, 
and  t'other,  and  he'd  just  not  say  a  word  and  go 


25O  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  do  it  right  t'other  way.  It'll  be  a  wonder  ii 
somebody  ain't  considerably  startled  in  her  calcu- 
lations afore  summer's  out." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

She  enjoys  sure  peace  for  evermore, 
As  weather-beaten  ship  arrived  on  happy  shore. 

Spencer. 

It  was  impossible  at  first  to  make  Mr.  Hum 
phreys  believe  that  Alice  was  right  in  her  notion 
about  her  health.  The  greatness  of  the  evil  was 
such  that  his  mind  refused  to  receive  it,  much  as 
Ellen's  had  done.  His  unbelief,  however,  lasted 
longer  than  hers.  Constantly  with  Alice  as  she 
was,  and  talking  to  her  on  the  subject,  Ellen 
slowly  gave  up  the  hope  she  had  clung  to  ;  though 
still  bending  all  her  energies  to  the  present 
pleasure  and  comfort  of  her  adopted  sister,  her 
mind  shrank  from  looking  at  the  end.  Daily  and 
hourly,  in  every  way,  she  strove  to  be  what  Alice 
said  she  was,  a  comfort  to  her,  and  she  succeeded. 
Daily  and  hourly  Alice's  look  and  smile  and 
manner  said  the  same  thing  over  and  over.  It  was 
Ellen's  precious  reward,  and  in  seeking  to  earn  it 
she  half  the  time  earned  another  in  forgetting  her- 
self. It  was  different  with  Mr.  Humphreys.  He 
saw  much  less  of  his  daughter ;  and  when  he  was 
with  her,  it  was  impossible  for  Alice,  with  all  her 
efforts,  to  speak  to  him  as  freely  and  plainly  as  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to  Ellen.  The  con- 
sequences were  such  as  grieved  her,  but  could  not 
be  helped. 

As  soon   as  it  was  known   that  her  health  was 
failing,  Sophia  Marshman  came   and   took  up  her 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  257 

abode  at  the  parsonage.  Ellen  was  almost  sorry ; 
\t  broke  up  in  a  measure  the  sweet  and  peaceful 
way  of  life  she  and  Alice  had  held  together  ever 
since  her  own  coming.  Miss  Sophia  could  not 
make  a  third  in  their  conversations.  But  as 
Alice's  strength  grew  less  and  she  needed  more 
attendance  and  help,  it  was  plain  her  friend's  being 
there  was  a  happy  thing  for  both  Alice  and  Ellen. 
Miss  Sophia  was  active,  cheerful,  untiring  in  her 
affectionate  care,  always  pleasant  in  manner  and 
temper ;  a  very  useful  person  in  a  house  where 
one  was  ailing.  Mrs.  Vawse  was  often  there  too, 
and  to  her  Ellen  clung  whenever  she  came,  as  to  a 
pillar  of  strength.  Miss  Sophia  could  do  nothing 
to  help  her  ;  Mrs.  Vawse  could,  a  great  deal. 

Alice  had  refused  to  write  or  allow  others  to 
write  to  her  brother.  She  said  he  was  just  finish- 
ing his  course  of  study  at  Doncaster  ;  she  would 
not  have  him  disturbed  or  broken  off  by  bad  news 
from  home.  In  August  he  would  be  quite  through ; 
the  first  of  August  he  would  be  home. 

Before  the  middle  of  June,  however,  her  health 
began  to  fail  much  more  rapidly  than  she  had 
counted  upon.  It  became  too  likely  that  if  she 
waited  for  his  regular  return  at  the  first  of  August 
she  would  see  but  little  of  her  brother.  She  at  last 
reluctantly  consented  that  Mrs.  Chauncey  should 
write  to  him  and  from  that  moment  counted  the 
days. 

Her  father  had  scarcely  till  now  given  up  his  old 
confidence  respecting  her.  He  came  into  her 
room  one  morning  when  just  about  to  set  out  for 
Carra-carra  to  visit  one  or  two  of  his  poof 
parishioners. 
17 


2$S  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

"  How  are  you  to-day,  my  daughter  ?  "  he  asked, 
tenderly. 

"  Easy,  papa, — and  happy,"  said  Alice. 

"  You  are  looking  better,"  said  he.  "  We  shall 
have  you  well  again  among  us  yet." 

There  was  some  sorrow  for  him  in  Alice's  smile, 
as  she  looked  up  at  him  and  answered,  "  Yes, 
papa, — in  the  land  where  the  inhabitant  shall  no 
more  say,  '  I  am  sick.'  " 

He  kissed  her  hastily  and  went  out. 

"  I  almost  wish  I  was  in  your  place,  Alice,"  said 
Miss  Sophia.  "I  hope  I  may  be  half  as  happy 
when  my  time  comes." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  hope  so,  Sophia  ? "  said 
Alice,  rather  sadly. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  the  other,  after  a  pause,  "you 
have  been  ten  times  as  good  as  I.  I  don't  wonder 
you  feel  easy  when  you  look  back  and  think  how 
blameless  your  life  has  been." 

"  Sophia,  Sophia  !  "  said  Alice, — "  you  know  it 
is  not  that.  I  never  did  a  good  thing  in  my  life 
that  was  not  mixed  and  spoiled  with  evil.  I  never 
came  up  to  the  full  measure  of  duty  in  any  matter." 

"  But  surely,"  said  Miss  Sophia, — "  if  one  does 
the  best  one  can,  it  will  be  accepted  ?  " 

'*  It  won't  do  to  trust  to  that,  Sophia.  God's  law 
requires  perfection  ;  and  nothing  less  than  perfec- 
tion will  be  received  as  payment  of  its  demand.  If 
you  owe  a  hundred  dollars,  and  your  creditor  will  not 
hold  you  quit  for  anything  less  than  the  whole  sum, 
it  is  of  no  manner  of  signification  whether  you  offer 
him  ten  or  twenty." 

"  Why,  according  to  that,"  said  Miss  Sophia,  "  it 
makes  no  difference  what  kind  of  life  one  leads." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  259 

Alice  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  The  fruit  shows  what  the  tree  is.  Love  to  God 
will  strive  to  please  Him — always." 

"  And  is  it  of  no  use  to  strive  to  please  Him  ?  " 

"  Of  no  manner  of  use,  if  you  make  that  your 
trusts 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what  one  is  to  trust  to,"  said 
Miss  Sophia, — "  if  it  isn't  a  good  life." 

"  I  will  answer  you,"  said  Alice,  with  a  smile  in 
which  there  was  no  sorrow, — "  in  some  words  that 
I  love  very  much,  of  an  old  Scotchman,  I  think ; — • 
*  I  have  taken  all  my  good  deeds  and  all  my  bad, 
and  have  cast  them  together  in  a  heap  before  the 
Lord ;  and  from  them  all  I  have  fled  to  Jesus 
Christ,  and  in  Him  alone  I  have  sweet  peace,'  " 

Sophia  was  silenced  for  a  minute  by  her  look. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  I  don't  understand  it ;  that 
is  what  George  is  always  talking  about ;  but  I  can't 
understand  him." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  cannot,"  said  Alice,  gravely. 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  little  while, 

"  If  all  Christians  were  like  you,"  said  Miss 
Sophia,  "  I  might  think  more  about  it ;  but  they 
are  such  a  dull  set,  there  seems  to  be  no  life  nor 
pleasure  among  them." 

Alice  thought  of  the  lines, — 

"  Their  pleasures  rise  to  things  unseen, 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  time ; 
Where  neither  eyes  nor  ears  have  been, 
Nor  thoughts  of  mortals  climb." 

"  You  judge,"  said  she,  "  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  of  that  which  they  see  not.  After  all,  they 
know  best  whether  they  are  happy.  What  do  yQU 
think  of  Mrs.  Vawse  ? " 


26o  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  her ;  she  is  won- 
derful to  me  ;  she  is  past  my  comprehension  en- 
tirely.    Don't  make  her  an  example." 

"  No,  religion  has  done  that  for  me.  What  do 
you  think  of  your  brother  ?  " 

"  George  ? — He  is  happy, — there  is  no  doubt  of 
that ;  he  is  the  happiest  person  in  the  family,  by  all 
odds ;  but  then — I  think  he  has  a  natural  knack  at 
being  happy  ; — it  is  impossible  for  anything  to  put 
him  out." 

Alice  smiled  and  shook  her  head  again. 

"  Sophistry,  Sophia.  What  do  you  think  of 
me?" 

"  I  don't  see  what  reason  you  have  to  be  any- 
thing but  happy." 

"  What  have  I  to  make  me  so  ?  " 

Sophia  was  silent.  Alice  laid  her  thin  hand  upon 
hers. 

"  I  am  leaving  all  I  love  in  this  world.  Should 
I  be  happy  if  I  were  not  going  to  somewhat  I  love 
better  ?  Should  I  be  happy  if  I  had  no  secure 
prospect  of  meeting  with  them  again  ? — or  if  I  were 
doubtful  of  my  reception  in  that  place  whither  I 
hope  to  go  ?  " 

Sophia  burst  into  tears.  "  Well,  I  don't  know," 
said  she  ;  "  I  suppose  you  are  right  ;  but  I  don't 
understand  it." 

Alice  drew  her  face  down  to  hers  and  whispered 
something  in  her  ear. 

Undoubtedly  Alice  had  much  around  as  well 
as  within  her  to  make  a  declining  life  happy.  Mrs. 
Vawse  and  Miss  Marshman  were  two  friends  and 
nurses  not  to  be  surpassed,  in  their  different  ways. 
Margery's  motherly  affection,  her  zeal,  and  her  skill, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  261 

left  nothing  for  heart  to  wish  in  her  line  of  duty. 
And  all  that  affection,  taste,  and  kindness,  with 
abundant  means,  could  supply  was  at  Alice's  com- 
mand. Still  her  greatest  comfort  was  Ellen.  Her 
constant  thoughtful  care ;  the  thousand  tender 
attentions,  from  the  roses  daily  gathered  for  her 
table  to  the  chapters  she  read  and  the  hymns  she 
sung  to  her ;  the  smile  that  often  covered  a  pang  ; 
the  pleasant  words  and  tone  that  many  a  time  came 
from  a  sinking  heart ;  they  were  Alice's  daily  and 
nightly  cordial.  Ellen  had  learned  self-command 
in  more  than  one  school  ;  affection,  as  once  before, 
was  her  powerful  teacher  now,  and  taught  her  well. 
Sophia  openly  confessed  that  Ellen  was  the  best 
nurse ;  and  Margery,  when  nobody  hp~~d  her,  mut- 
tered blessings  on  the  child's  head. 

Mr.  Humphreys  came  in  often  to  see  his  daughter, 
but  never  stayed  long.  It  was  plain  he  could  not 
bear  it.  It  might  have  been  difficult,  too,  for  Alice 
to  bear,  but  she  wished  for  her  brother.  She 
reckoned  the  time  from  Mrs.  Chauncey's  letter  to 
that  when  he  might  be  looked  for  ;  but  some  irregu- 
larities in  the  course  of  the  post-office  made  it  im- 
possible to  count  with  certainty  upon  the  exact  time 
of  his  arrival.  Meanwhile  her  failure  was  very 
rapid.  Mrs.  Vawse  began  to  fear  he  would  not 
arrive  in  time. 

The  weeks  of  June  ran  out ;  the  roses,  all  but  a 
few  late  kinds,  blossomed  and  died ;  July  came. 

One  morning  when  Ellen  went  into  her  room, 
Alice  drew  her  close  to  her  and  said,  "You  re- 
member, Ellie,  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  when 
Christiana  and  her  companions  were  sent  for  to  go 
over  the  river  ? — I  think  the  messenger  has   come 


262  THE   WIDE.  WIDE  WORLD. 

for  me.  You  mustn't  cry,  love  ; — listen — this  is  the 
token  he  seems  to  bring  me, — '  I  have  loved  thee 
with  an  everlasting  love.'  I  am  sure  of  it,  Ellie ;  I 
have  no  doubt  of  it, — so  don't  cry  for  me.  You 
have  been  my  dear  comfort,  my  blessing — we  shall 
love  each  other  in  heaven,  Ellie." 

Alice  kissed  her  earnestly  several  times,  and  then 
Ellen  escaped  from  her  arms  and  fled  away.  It  was 
long  before  she  could  come  back  again.  But  she 
came  at  last ;  and  went  on  through  all  that  day  as 
she  had  done  for  weeks  before.  The  day  seemed 
long,  for  every  member  of  the  family  was  on  the 
watch  for  John's  arrival,  and  it  was  thought  his 
sister  would  not  live  to  see  another.  It  wore  away  ; 
hour  after  hour  passed  without  his  coming ;  and 
the  night  fell.  Alice  showed  no  impatience,  but 
she  evidently  wished  and  watched  for  him  ;  and 
Ellen,  whose  affection  read  her  face  and  knew  what 
to  make  of  the  look  at  the  opening  door,— the  eye 
turned  toward  the  window — the  attitude  of  listen- 
ing,— grew  feverish  with  her  intense  desire  that  she 
should  be  gratified. 

From  motives  of  convenience,  Alice  had  moved 
upstairs,  to  a  room  that  John  generally  occupied 
when  he  was  at  home  ;  directly  over  the  sitting- 
room,  and  with  pleasant  windows  toward  the  East. 
Mrs.  Chauncey,  Miss  Sophia,  and  Mrs.  Vawse  were 
all  there.  Alice  was  lying  quietly  on  the  bed,  and 
seemed  to  be  dozing ;  but  Ellen  noticed,  after 
lights  were  brought,  that  every  now  and  then  she 
opened  her  eyes  and  gave  an  inquiring  look  round 
the  room.  Ellen  could  not  bear  it ;  slipping  softly 
out  she  went  downstairs  and  seated  herself  on  the 
threshold  of  the  glass  door,  as  if  by  watching  there 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  263 

she  could  be  any  nearer  the  knowledge  of  what  she 
wished  for. 

It  was  a  perfectly  still  summer  night.  The  moon 
shone  brightly  on  the  little  lawn  and  poured  its 
rays  over  Ellen,  just  as  it  had  done  one  well- 
remembered  evening  nearly  a  year  ago.  Ellen's 
thoughts  went  back  to  it.  How  like  and  how  un- 
like !  All  around  was  just  the  same  as  it  had  been 
then ;  the  cool  moonlight  upon  the  distant  fields, 
the  trees  in  the  gap  lit  up,  as  then,  the  lawn  a  flood 
of  brightness.  But  there  was  no  happy  party 
gathered  there  now  ; — they  were  scattered.  One 
was  away;  one  a  sorrowful  watcher  alone  in  the 
moonlight ; — one  waiting  to  be  gone  where  there  is 
no  need  of  moon  or  stars  for  evermore.  Ellen 
almost  wondered  they  could  shine  so  bright  upon 
those  that  had  no  heart  to  rejoice  in  them  ;  she 
thought  they  looked  down  coldly  and  unfeelingly 
upon  her  distress.  She  remembered  the  whip-poor- 
will  ;  none  was  heard  to-night,  near  or  far  ;  she  was 
glad  of  it ;  it  would  have  been  too  much  ;  and  there 
were  no  fluttering  leaves  ;  the  air  was  absolutely  still. 
Ellen  looked  up  again  at  the  moon  and  stars.  They 
shone  calmly  on,  despite  the  reproaches  she  cast 
upon  them  ;  and  as  she  still  gazed  up  towards  them 
in  their  purity  and  steadfastness,  other  thoughts  be- 
gan to  come  into  her  head  of  that  which  was  more 
pure  still,  and  more  steadfast.  How  long  they  have 
been  shining,  thought  Ellen  ; — going  on  just  the 
same  from  night  to  night  and  from  year  to  year, — 
as  if  they  never  would  come  to  an  end.  But  they 
will  come  to  an  end — the  time  7i>ill  come  when  they 
will  stop  shining — bright  as  they  are  ;  and  then, 
when  they  all  are  swept  away,  then  heaven  will  be 


264  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

only  begun  ;  that  will  never  end  ! — never.  And  in 
a  few  years  we  who  were  so  happy  a  year  ago  and 
are  so  sorry  now,  shall  be  all  glad  together  there, — ■ 
this  will  be  all  over  !  And  then  as  she  looked,  and 
the  tears  sprang  to  her  thoughts,  a  favorite  hymn 
of  Alice's  came  to  her  remembrance  : 

"Ye  stars  are  but  the  shining  dust 

Of  my  divine  abode ; 
The  pavements  of  those  heavenly  courts 

Where  I  shall  see  my  God. 
The  Father  of  eternal  lights 

Shall  there  His  beams  display  : 
And  not  one  moment's  darkness  mix 

With  that  unvaried  day." 

"  Not  one  moment's  darkness  !  "  "  Oh,"  thought, 
little  Ellen, — "  there  are  a  great  many  here  !  " — 
Still  gazing  up  at  the  bright  calm  heavens,  while 
the  tears  ran  fast  down  her  face,  and  fell  into  her 
lap,  there  came  trooping  through  Ellen's  mind 
many  of  those  words  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
reading  to  her  mother  and  Alice,  and  which  she 
knew  and  loved  so  well. 

"  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there ;  and  they 
need  no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun  ;  for  the 
Lord  God  giveth  them  light  :  and  they  shall  reign 
for  ever  and  ever.  And  there  shall  be  no  more 
curse  :  but  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb 
shall  be  in  it ;  and  His  servants  shall  serve  Him  : 
and  they  shall  see  His  face  ;  and  His  name  shall 
be  in  their  foreheads.  And  God  shall  wipe  away 
all  tears  from  their  eyes  ;  and  there  shall  be  no 
more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither 
shall  there  be  any  more  pain :  for  the  former 
things  have  passed  away. 

"  And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  265 

come  again  and  receive  you  unto  Myself ;  that 
where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also." 

While  Ellen  was  yet  going  over  and  over  these 
precious  things,  with  a  strong  sense  of  their 
preciousness  in  all  her  throbbing  grief,  there  came 
to  her  ear  through  the  perfect  stillness  of  the 
night  the  faint,  far-off,  not-to-be-mistaken,  sound 
of  quick-coming  horse's  feet, — nearer  and  nearer 
every  second.  It  came  with  a  mingled  pang  of 
pain  and  pleasure,  both  very  acute ;  she  rose 
instantly  to  her  feet,  and  stood  pressing  her 
hand  to  her  heart  while  the  quick-measured  beat  of 
hoofs  grew  louder  and  louder,  until  it  ceased  at  the 
very  door.  The  minutes  were  few ;  but  they  were 
moments  of  intense  bitterness.  The  tired  horse 
stooped  his  head,  as  the  rider  flung  himself  from 
the  saddle  and  came  to  the  door  where  Ellen  stood 
fixed.  A  look  asked,  and  a  look  answered,  the 
question  that  lips  could  not  speak.  Ellen  only 
pointed  the  way  and  uttered  the  word  "  upstairs  "  ; 
and  John  rushed  thither.  He  checked  himself, 
however,  at  the  door  of  the  room,  and  opened  it 
and  went  in  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  but  come  from  a 
walk.  But  his  caution  was  very  needless.  Alice 
knew  his  step,  she  knew  his  horse's  step,  too  well ; 
she  had  raised  herself  up  and  stretched  out  both 
arms  towards  him  before  he  entered.  In  another 
moment  they  were  round  his  neck,  and  she  was 
supported  in  his.     There  was  a  long,  long  silence. 

"  Are  you  happy,  Alice  ?  "  whispered  her 
brother. 

"  Perfectly.  This  was  all  I  wanted.  Kiss  me, 
dear  John." 

As  he  did  so,  again  and  again,  she  felt  his  tears 


*36  THE  WIDE,  V/IDE  WORLD. 

on  her  cheek,  and  put  up  her  hand  to  his  face  to 
wipe  them  away  ■  kissed  him  then,  and  then  once 
again  laid  her  head  on  his  breast.  They  remained 
so  a  little  while  without  stirring  ;  except  that  some 
whispers  were  exchanged  too  low  for  others  to 
hear,  and  once  more  she  raised  her  face  to  kiss 
him.  A  few  minutes  after  those  who  could  look 
saw  his  color  change ;  he  felt  the  arms  unclasp 
their  hold  ;  and  as  he  laid  her  gently  back  on  the 
pillow  they  fell  languidly  down ;  the  will  and  the 
power  that  had  sustained  them  were  gone.  Alice 
was  gone  ;  but  the  departing  spirit  had  left  a  ray 
of  brightness  on  its  earthly  house  ;  there  was  a 
half  smile  on  the  sweet  face,  of  most  entire  peace 
and  satisfaction.  Her  brother  looked  for  a  mo- 
menta—closed the  eyes, — kissed,  once  and  again 
the  sweet  lips, — and  left  the  room. 

Ellen  saw  him  no  more  that  night,  nor  knew  how 
he  passed  it.  For  her,  wearied  with  grief  and  ex- 
citement, it  was  spent  in  long  heavy  slumber. 
From  the  pitch  to  which  her  spirits  had  been 
wrought  by  care,  sorrow,  and  self-restraint,  they 
now  suddenly  and  completely  sank  down  ;  natu- 
rally, and  happily,  she  lost  all  sense  of  trouble  in 
sleep. 

When  sleep  at  last  left  her,  and,  she  stole  down 
stairs  into  the  sitting-room  in  the  morning,  it  was 
rather  early.  Nobody  was  stirring  about  the  house 
but  herself.  It  seemed  deserted ;  the  old  sitting- 
room  looked  empty  and  forlurn  ;  the  stillness  was 
oppressive.  Ellen  could  not  bear  it.  Softly  open- 
ing the  glass  door  she  went  out  upon  the  lawn, 
where  everything  was  sparkling  in  the  early  fresh- 
ness of  the  summer  morning.     How  could  it  loci 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  26, 

so  pleasant  without,  when  all  pleasantness  was 
gone  within  ? — It  pressed  upon  Ellen's  heart.  With 
a  restless  feeling  of  pain,  she  went  on,  round  the 
corner  of  the  house,  and  paced  slowly  along  the 
road  till  she  came  to  the  foot-path  that  led  up  to 
the  place  on  the  mountain  John  had  called  the 
Bridge  of  the  Nose.  Ellen  took  that  path,  often 
traveled  and  much  loved  by  her  ;  and  slowly,  and 
with  slow- dripping  tears,  made  her  way  up  over 
moss  wet  with  the  dew,  and  the  stones  and  rocks 
with  which  the  rough  way  was  strewn.  She  passed 
the  place  where  Alice  had  first  found  her, — she 
remembered  it  well ; — there  was  the  very  stone  be- 
side which  they  had  kneeled  together,  and  where 
Alice's  folded  hands  were  laid.  Ellen  knelt  down 
beside  it  again,  and  for  a  moment  laid  her  cheek 
to  the  cold  stone,  while  her  arms  embraced  it,  and 
a  second  time  it  was  watered  with  tears.  She  rose 
up  again  quickly  and  went  on  her  way,  toiling  up 
the  steep  path  beyond,  till  she  turned  the  edge  of 
the  mountain  and  stood  on  the  old  place  where 
she  and  Alice  that  evening  had  watched  the  setting 
sun.  Many  a  setting  sun  they  had  watched  from 
thence ;  it  had  been  a  favorite  pleasure  of  them 
both  to  run  up  there  for  a  few  minutes  before  or 
after  tea,  and  see  the  sun  go  down  at  the  far  end 
of  the  long  valley.  It  seemed  to  Ellen  one  of 
Alice's  haunts ;  she  missed  her  there ;  and  the 
thought  went  keenly  home  that  there  she  would 
come  with  her  no  more.  She  sat  down  on  the 
stone  she  called  her  own,  and  leaning  her  head  on 
Alice's,  which  was  close  by,  she  wept  bitterly.  Yet 
not  very  long  !  she  was  too  tired  and  subdued  for 
bitter  weeping;    she  raised  her  head   again,   and 


268  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

wiping  away  her  tears  looked  abroad  over  the  beau- 
tiful landscape.     Never  more  beautiful  than  then. 

The  early  sun  filled  the  valley  with  patches  of 
light  and  shade.  The  sides  and  tops  of  the  hills 
looking  towards  the  east  were  bright  with  the  cool 
brightness  of  the  morning  ;  beyond  and  between 
them  deep  shadows  lay.  The  sun  could  not  yet 
look  at  that  side  of  the  mountain  where  Ellen  sat, 
nor  at  the  long  reach  of  ground  it  screened  from 
his  view,  stretching  from  the  mountain  foot  to  the 
other  end  of  the  valley  ;  but  to  the  left,  between 
that  and  the  Cat's  Back,  the  rays  of  the  sun 
streamed  through  touching  the  houses  of  the  vil- 
lage, showing  the  lake,  and  making  every  tree  and 
barn  and  clump  of  wood  in  the  distance  stand  out 
in  bright  relief.  Deliciously  cool,  both  the  air  and 
the  light,  though  a  warm  day  was  promised.  The 
night  had  wept  away  all  the  heat  of  yesterday. 
Now,  the  air  was  fresh  with  the  dew  and  sweet 
from  hayfield  and  meadow  ;  and  the  birds  were 
singing  like  mad  all  around.  There  was  no  answer- 
ing echo  in  the  little  human  heart  that  looked  and 
listened.  Ellen  loved  all  these  things  too  well  not 
to  notice  them  even  now  ;  she  felt  their  full  beauty  ; 
but  she  felt  it  sadly.  "  She  will  look  at  it  no  more  !  " 
she  said  to  herself.  But  instantly  came  an  answer 
to  her  thoughts  : — "  Behold  I  create  new  heavens, 
and  a  new  earth ;  and  the  former  shall  not  be  re- 
membered, nor  come  into  mind.  Thy  sun  shall  no 
more  go  down  ;  neither  shall  thy  moon  withdraw 
itself  ;  for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light, 
and  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended." 

"  She  is  there  now,"  thought  Ellen. — "  she  is 
happy, — why  should  I   be    sorry  for  her  ?     I  am 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  269 

not ;  but  oh !  I  must  be  sorry  for  myself — Oh, 
Alice  ! — dear  Alice  !  " 

She  wept ;  but  then  again  came  sweeping  over 
her  mind  the  words  with  which  she  was  so  famil- 
iar,— "  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended  ;  " 
and  again  with  her  regret  mingled  the  consciousness 
that  it  must  be  for  herself  alone.  And  for  herself, 
— "  Can  I  not  trust  Him  whom  she  trusted  ?  "  she 
thought.  Somewhat  soothed  and  more  calm,  she 
sat  still  looking  down  into  the  brightening  valley, 
or  off  to  the  hills  that  stretched  away  on  either 
hand  of  it ;  when  up  through  the  still  air  the  sound 
of  the  little  Carra-carra  church  bell  came  to  her 
ear.     It  rang  for  a  minute  and  then  stopped. 

It  crossed  Ellen's  mind  to  wonder  what  it  could 
be  ringing  for  at  that  time  of  day  ;  but  she  went 
back  to  her  musings  and  had  entirely  forgotten  it, 
when  again,  clear  and  full  through  the  stillness  the 
sound  came  pealing  up. 

"  One— two  !  " 

Ellen  knew  now  !    It  went  through  her  very  heart. 

It  is  the  custom  in  the  country  to  toll  the  church 
bell  upon  occasion  of  the  death  of  any  one  in  the 
township  or  parish.  A  few  strokes  are  rung  by 
way  of  drawing  attention  ;  these  are  followed  after 
a  little  pause  by  a  single  one  if  the  knell  is  for  a 
man,  or  two  for  a  woman.  Then  another  short 
pause.  Then  follows  the  number  of  the  years  the 
person  has  lived,  told  in  short,  rather  slow  strokes, 
as  one  would  count  them  up.  After  pausing  once 
more  the  tolling  begins,  and  is  kept  up  for  some 
time  ;  the  strokes  following  in  slow  and  sad  suc- 
cession, each  one  being  permitted  to  die  quite  away 
before  another  breaks  upon  the  ear. 


^o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  had  been  told  of  this  custom,  but  habit 
had  never  made  it  familiar.  Only  once  she  had 
happened  to  hear  this  notice  of  death  given  out ; 
and  that  was  long  ago  ;  the  bell  could  not  be  heard 
at  Miss  Fortune's  house.  It  came  upon  her  now 
with  all  the  force  of  novelty  and  surprise.  As  the 
number  of  the  years  of  Alice's  life  was  sadly  told 
out,  every  stroke  was  to  her  as  if  it  fell  upon  a  raw 
nerve.  Ellen  hid  her  face  in  her  lap  and  tried  to 
keep  from  counting,  but  she  could  not  ;  and  as 
the  tremulous  sound  of  the  last  of  the  twenty-four 
died  away  upon  the  air,  she  was  shuddering  from 
head  to  foot.  A  burst  of  tears. relieved  her  when 
the  sound  ceased. 

Just  then  a  voice  close  beside  her  said  low,  as  if 
the  speaker  might  not  trust  its  higher  tones, — "  I 
will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence 
cometh  my  help  !  " 

How  differently  that  sound  struck  upon  Ellen's 
ear  !  With  an  indescribable  air  of  mingled  ten- 
derness, weariness,  and  sorrow,  she  slowly  rose 
from  her  seat  and  put  both  her  arms  round  the 
speaker's  neck.  Neither  said  a  word  ;  but  to  Ellen 
the  arm  that  held  her  was  more  than  all  words  ;  it 
was  the  dividing  line  between  her  and  the  world, — 
On  this  side  everything,  on  that  side  nothing. 

No  word  was  spoken  for  many  minutes. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  her  brother,  softly, — 
*  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  whispered  Ellen, — ':  there  was 
tiobody  there — I  couldn't  stay  in  the  house." 

"  Shall  we  go  home  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes — whenever  you  please." 

But  neither  moved  yet.     Ellen  had   raised   h& 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  27 1 

head ;  she  still  stood  with  her  arm  upon  her 
brother's  shoulder ;  the  eyes  of  both  were  on  the 
scene  before  them  ;  the  thoughts  of  neither.  He 
presently  spoke  again. 

"  Let  us  try  to  love  our  God  better,  Ellie,  the 
less  we  have  left  to  love  in  this  world  ; — that  is 
Plis  meaning — let  sorrow  but  bring  us  closer  to 
Him.  Dear  Alice  is  well — she  is  well, — and  if  we 
are  made  to  suffer,  we  know  and  we  love  the 
hand  that  has  done  it, — do  we  not,  Ellie  ?  " 

Ellen  put  her  hands  to  her  face  ;  she  thought 
her  heart  would  break.  He  gently  drew  her  to  a 
seat  on  the  stone,  beside  him,  and  still  keeping  his 
arm  round  her,  slowly  and  soothingly  went  on — 

"  Think  that  she  is  happy  ; — think  that  she  is 
safe ; — think  that  she  is  with  that  blessed  One 
whose  face  we  seek  at  a  distance, — satisfied  with 
his  likeness  instead  of  wearily  struggling  with  sin ; 
think  that  sweetly  and  easily  she  has  got  home  \ 
and  it  is  our  home  too.  We  must  weep,  because 
we  are  left  alone ;  but  for  her — '  I  heard  a  voice 
from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Blessed  are  the  dead 
that  die  in  the  Lord  !  '  " 

As  he  spoke  in  low  and  sweet  tones,  Ellen's 
tears  calmed  and  stopped  ;  but  she  still  kept  her 
hands  to  her  face. 

"  Shall  we  go  home,  Ellie  ? "  said  her  brother, 
after  another  silence.  She  rose  up  instantly  and 
said  yes.  But  he  held  her  still,  and  looking  for  a 
moment  at  the  tokens  of  watching  and  grief  and 
care  in  her  countenance,  he  gently  kissed  the  pale 
little  face,  adding  a  word  of  endearment  which 
almost  broke  Ellen's  heart  again.  Then  taking 
her  hand  they  went  down  the  mountain  together, 


27*  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD, 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

**  I  have  seen  angels  by  the  sick  one's  pillow  ; 

Theirs  was  the  soft  tone  and  the  soundless  tread, 

Where  smitten  hearts  were  drooping  like  the  willow, 

They  stood  '  between  the  living  and  the  dead.'  " 

Unknown. 

The  whole  Marshman  family  arrived  to-day 
from  Ventnor ;  some  to  see  Alice's  loved  remains, 
and  all  to  follow  them  to  the  grave.  The  par- 
sonage could  not  hold  so  many;  the  two  Mr, 
Marshmans,  therefore,  with  Major  and  Mrs. 
Gillespie,  made  their  quarters  at  Thirl  wall.  Mar- 
gery's hands  were  full  enough  with  those  that  were 
left.  In  the  afternoon,  however,  she  found  time 
for  a  visit  to  the  room,  the  room.  She  was  stand- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  gazing  on  the  sweet  face 
she  loved  so  dearly,  when  Mrs.  Chauncey  and 
Mrs.  Vawse  came  up  for  the  same  purpose.  All 
three  stood  some  time  in  silence. 

The  bed  was  strewn  with  flowers,  somewhat 
singularly  disposed.  Upon  the  pillow  and  upon 
*nd  about  the  hands,  which  were  folded  on  the 
oreast,  were  scattered  some  of  the  rich  late  roses, 
— roses  and  rosebuds,  strewn  with  beautiful  and 
profuse  carelessness.  A  single  stem  of  white 
lilies  lay  on  the  side  of  the  bed  ;  the  rest  of  the 
flowers,  a  large  quantity,  covered  the  feet,  seeming 
to  have  been  flung  there  without  any  attempt  at 
arrangement.  They  were  of  various  kinds,  chosen, 
however,  with  exquisite  taste  and  feeling.  Beside 
the  roses,  there  were  none  that  were  not  either 
white  or  distinguished  for  their  fragrance.  The 
delicate  white  verbena,  the  pure  feverfew,  mjgnoiv 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  273 

ette,  sweet  geranium,  white  myrtle,  the  rich- 
scented  heliotrope,  were  mingled  with  the  late- 
blossoming  damask  and  purple  roses ;  no  yellow 
flowers,  no  purple,  except  those  mentioned ;  even 
the  flaunting  petunia,  though  white,  had  been  left 
out  by  the  nice  hand  that  had  culled  them.  But 
the  arranging  of  these  beauties  seemed  to  have 
been  little  more  than  attempted  ;  though  indeed 
it  might  be  questioned  whether  the  finest  art 
could  have  bettered  the  effect  of  what  the  over- 
tasked hand  of  affection  had  left  half  done.  Mrs. 
Chauncey,  however,  after  a  while  began  slowly  to 
take  a  flower  or  two  from  the  foot  and  place  them 
on  other  parts  of  the  bed. 

"  Will  Mrs.  Chauncey  pardon  my  being  so  bold," 
said  Margery  then,  who  had  looked  on  with  no 
pleasure  while  this  was  doing, — "  but  if  she  had 
seen  when  those  flowers  were  put  there, — it 
wouldn't  be  her  wish,  I  am  sure  it  wouldn't  be  her 
wish,  to  stir  one  of  them." 

Mrs.  Chauncey's  hand,  which  was  stretched  out 
for  a  fourth,  drew  back. 

"  Why,  who  put  them  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

-'Miss  Ellen,  ma'am." 

"Where  is  Ellen?" 

"  I  think  she  is  sleeping,  ma'am.  Poor  child  ! 
She's  the  most  wearied  of  us  all  with  sorrow  and 
watching,"  said  Margery,  weeping. 

"  You  saw  her  bring  them  up,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  saw  her,  ma'am.  Oh,  will  I  ever  forget  it  as 
long  as  I  live  !  " 

"Why  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey  gently. 

"  It's  a  thing  one  should  have   seen,  ma'am,  to 
understand.     I  don't  know  as  I  can  tell  it  well." 
18 


274  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Seeing,  however,  that  Mrs.  Chauncey  still  looked 
her  wish,  Margery  went  on,  half  under  her 
breath. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  the  way  it  was, — I  had  come  up 
to  get  some  linen  out  of  the  closet,  for  I  had 
watched  my  time ;  Mrs.  Chauncey  sees,  I  was 
afeard  of  finding  Mr.  John  here,  and  I  knew  he  was 
lying  down  just  then,  so " 

"  Lying  down,  was  he  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vawse.  "  I 
did  not  know  he  had  taken  any  rest  to-day." 

"  It  was  very  little  he  took,  ma'am,  indeed, 
though  there  was  need  enough,  I  am  sure ; — he 
had  been  up  with  his  father  the  live-long  blessed 
night.  And  then  the  first  thing  this  morning  he 
was  away  after  Miss  Ellen,  poor  child  !  wherever  she 
had  betaken  herself  to  ;  I  happened  to  see  her 
before  anybody  was  out,  going  round  the  corner  of 
the  house,  and  so  I  knew  when  he  asked  me  for 
her." 

"  Was  she  going  after  flowers  then  f  "  said  Mrs. 
Chauncey. 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am, — it  was  a  long  time  after  ;  it 
was  this  morning  some  time. — I  had  come  up  to 
the  linen  closet,  knowing  Mr.  John  was  in  his 
room,  and  I  thought  I  was  safe ;  and  I  had  just 
taken  two  or  three  pieces  on  my  arm,  you  know, 
ma'am,  when  somehow  I  forgot  myself  and  forgot 
what  I  had  come  for,  and  leaving  what  I  should 
ha'  been  a-doing,  I  was  standing  there,  looking  out 
this  way  at  the  dear  features  I  never  thought  to 
see  in  death, — and  I  had  entirely  forgotten  what  I 
was  there  for,  ma'am, — when  I  heard  Miss  Ellen's 
little  footstep  coming  softly  upstairs.  I  didn't 
want  her  to  catch  sight  of  me  just  then,  so  I  had 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  275 

just  drew  myself  back  a  bit,  so  as  I  could  see  her 
without  her  seeing  me,  back  in  the  closet  where  I 
was.  But  it  had  like  to  have  got  the  better  of  me 
entirely,  ma'am,  when  I  see  her  come  in  with  a 
lap  full  of  them  flowers,  and  looking  so  as  she  did 
too !  but  with  much  trouble  I  kept  quiet.  She 
went  up  and  stood  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  just 
where  Mrs.  Chauncey  is  standing,  with  her  sweet, 
sad  little  face, — it's  the  hardest  thing  to  see  a 
child's  face  to  look  so, — and  the  flowers  all 
gathered  up  in  her  frock.  It  was  odd  to  see  her, 
she  didn't  cry, — not  at  all, — only  once  I  see  her 
brow  wrinkle,  but  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  a  mind 
not  to,  for  she  put  her  hand  up  to  her  face  and 
held  it  a  little,  and  then  she  began  to  take  out  the 
flowers  one  by  one,  and  she'd  lay  a  rose  here  and  a 
rosebud  there,  and  so  ;  and  then  she  went  round 
£0  the  other  side  and  laid  the  lilies,  and  two  or 
three  more  roses  there  on  the  pillow.  But  I  could 
see  all  the  while  it  was  getting  too  much  for  her ; 
I  see  very  soon  she  wouldn't  get  through ;  she  just 
placed  two  or  three  more,  and  one  rose  there  in  that 
hand,  and  that  was  the  last.  I  could  see  it  work- 
ing in  her  face ;  she  turned  as  pale  as  her  lilies  all 
at  once,  and  just  tossed  up  all  the  flowers  out  of 
her  frock  on  to  the  bed-foot  there, — that's  just  as 
they  fell,  — and  down  she  went  on  her  knees,  and 
her  face  in  her  hands,  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  "  I 
thought  no  more  about  my  linen,"  said  Margery, 
weeping, — "  I  couldn't  do  anything  but  look  at  that 
child  kneeling  there, — and  her  flowers, — and  all, 
beside  her  she  used  to  call  her  sister,  and  that 
couldn't  be  a  sister  to  her  no  more  ;  and  she's 
without  a  sister  now,  to  be  sure .  poor  child  !  " 


276  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  She  has  a  brother,  unless  I  am  mistaken," 
said  Mrs.  Chauncey,  when  she  could  speak. 

"  And  that's  just  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you, 
ma'am.  She  had  been  there  five  or  ten  minutes 
without  moving,  or  more — I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
how  long  it  was,  I  didn't  think  how  time  went, — 
when  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  heard  another  step, 
and  Mr.  John  came  in.  I  thought,  and  expected, 
he  was  taking  some  sleep-;  but  I  suppose,"  said 
Margery,  sighing,  "  he  couldn't  rest.  I  knew  his 
step,  and  just  drew  myself  back  further.  He  came 
just  where  you  are,  ma'am,  and  stood  with  his  arms 
folded  a  long  time  looking.  I  don't  know  how 
Miss  Ellen  didn't  hear  him  come  in  ;  but,  however, 
she  didn't ; — and  they  were  both  as  still  as  death, 
one  on  one  side,  and  the  other  on  the  other  side. 
And  I  wondered  he  didn't  see  her ;  but  her  white 
dress  and  all — and  I  suppose  he  had  no  thought 
but  for  one  thing.  I  knew  the  first  minute  he  did 
see  her,  when  he  looked  over  and  spied  her  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed  ; — I  see  his  color  change  ; 
and  then  his  mouth  took  the  look  it  always  did 
whenever  he  sets  himself  to  do  anything.  He  stood 
a  minute,  and  then  he  went  round,  and  knelt  down 
beside  of  her,  and  softly  took  away  one  of  her 
hands  from  under  her  face,  and  held  it  in  both  his 
own,  and  then  he  made  such  a  prayer  ! — Oh,"  said 
Margery,  her  tears  falling  fast  at  the  recollection, 
— u  I  never  heard  the  like  !  I  never  did.  He 
gave  thanks  for  Miss  Alice,  and  he  had  reason 
enough,  to  be  sure, — and  for  himself  and  Miss 
Ellen — I  wondered  to  hear  him  ! — and  he  prayed 
for  them  too,  and  others, — and — oh,  I  thought  I 
couldn't  stand  and  hear  him  ;    and  I  was  afeard  to 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  277 

breathe  the  whole  time,  lest  he  would  know  I  was 
there.  It  was  the  beautifullest  prayer  I  did  ever 
hear,  or  ever  shall,  however." 

"  And  how  did  Ellen  behave  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Chauncey,  when  she  could  speak. 

"  She  didn't  stir,  nor  make  the  least  motion  nor 
sound,  till  he  had  done,  and  spoke  to  her.  They 
stood  a  little  while  then,  and  Mr.  John  put  the  rest 
of  the  flowers  up  there  round  her  hand  and  the 
pillow, — Miss  Ellen  hadn't  put  more  than  half  a 
dozen ; — I  noticed  how  he  kept  hold  of  Miss 
Ellen's  hand  all  the  time.  I  heard  her  begin  to 
tell  him  how  she  didn't  finish  the  flowers,  and  he 
told  her,  '  I  saw  it  all,  Ellie,'  he  said ;  and  he  said, 
1  it  didn't  want  finishing.'  I  wondered  how  he 
should  see  it,  but  I  suppose  he  did,  however.  / 
understood  it  very  well.  They  went  away  down- 
stairs after  that." 

"  He  is  beautifully  changed,"  said  Mrs.  Vawse. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Margery, — "  I've 
heard  that  said  afore,  but  I  can't  say  as  I  ever 
could  see  it.  He  always  was  the  same  to  me — al- 
ways the  honorablest,  truest,  noblest — my  husband 
says  he  was  a  bit  fiery,  but  I  never  could  tell  that 
the  one  temper  was  sweeter  than  the  other  ;  only 
everybody  always  did  whatever  Mr.  John  wanted, 
to  be  sure ;  but  he  was  the  perfectest  gentleman, 
always." 

"  I  have  not  seen  either  Mr.  John  or  Ellen  since 
my  mother  came,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  Margery, — "  they  were  out 
reading  under  the  trees  for  a  long  time  ;  and  Miss 
Ellen  came  in  the  kitchen-way  a  little  while  ago  and 
went  to  lie  down." 


278  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  How  is  Mr.  Humphreys?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you,  ma'am — he  is  worse  than 
any  one  knows  of,  I  am  afraid,  unless  Mr.  John  ; 
you  will  not  see  him,  ma'am  !  he  has  not  been  here 
once,  nor  don't  mean  to,  I  think.  It  will  go  hard 
with  my  poor  master,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Margery, 
weeping  ; — "  dear  Miss  Alice  said  Miss  Ellen  was  to 
take  her  place;  but  it  would  want  an  angel  to  do  that." 

"Ellen  will  do  a  great  deal,"  said  Mrs.  Vawse ; 
— "  Mr.   Humphreys  loves  her  well  now,  I  know." 

"  So  do  I,  ma'am,  I  am  sure  ;  and  so  does  every 
one  ;  but  still " 

Margery  broke  off  her  sentence  and  sorrowfully 
went  downstairs.  Mrs.  Chauncey  moved  no  more 
flowers. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Margery 
came  softly  into  Ellen's  room. 

"  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  you  are  awake,  aren't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  Margery,"  said  Ellen,  sitting  up  on  the 
bed  ; — "  come  in.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  I  came  to  ask  Miss  Ellen  if  she  could  do  me  a 
great  favor  ; — there's  a  strange  gentleman  come, 
and  nobody  has  seen  him  yet,  and  it  don't  seem 
right.     He  has  been  here  this  some  time." 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  John  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Ellen  ;  he's  in  the  library  with  my 
master;  and  somehow  I  durstn't  go  to  the  door; 
mayhap  they  wouldn't  be  best  pleased.  Would 
Miss  Ellen  mind  telling  Mr.  John  of  the  gentleman's 
being  here  ?  " 

Ellen  would  mind  it  very  much,  there  was  no 
doubt  of  that ;  Margery  could  hardly  have  asked 
her  to  put  a  greater  force  upon  herself ;  she  did  not 
say  so. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  279 

"  You  are  sure  he  is  there,  Margery  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  sure,  Miss  Ellen.  I  am  very  sorry 
to  disturb  you;  but  if  you  wouldn't  mind — I  am 
ashamed  to  have  the  gentleman  left  to  himself  so 
long." 

"  I'll  do  it,  Margery." 

She  got  up,  slipped  on  her  shoes,  and  mechanic- 
ally smoothing  her  hair,  set  off  to  the  library.  On 
the  way  she  almost  repented  her  willingness  to 
oblige  Margery ;  the  errand  was  marvelous  dis- 
agreeable to  her.  She  had  never  gone  to  that  room 
except  with  Alice  ;  never  entered  it  uninvited.  She 
could  hardly  make  up  her  mind  to  knock  at  the 
door.     But  she  had  promised  ;  it  must  be  done. 

The  first  fearful  tap  was  too  light  to  arouse  any 
mortal  ears.  At  the  second,  though  not  much  bet- 
ter, she  heard  some  one  move,  and  John  opened 
the  door.  Without  waiting  to  hear  her  speak  he 
immediately  drew  her  in,  very  unwillingly  on  her 
part,  and  led  her  silently  up  to  his  father.  The  old 
gentleman  was  sitting  in  his  great  study-chair  with 
a  book  open  at  his  side.  He  turned  from  it  as  she 
came  up,  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  held  it  for  a 
few  moments  without  speaking.  Ellen  dared  not 
raise  her  eyes. 

"  My  little  girl,"  said  he,  very  gravely,  though  not 
without  a  tone  of  kindness  too, — "  are  you  coming 
here  to  cheer  my  loneliness  ?  " 

Ellen  in  vain  struggled  to  speak  an  articulate 
word ;  it  was  impossible  3  she  suddenly  stooped 
down  and  touched  her  lips  to  the  hand  that  lay  on 
the  arm  of  the  chair.  He  put  the  hand  tenderly 
upon  her  head. 

"  God  bless  you,"  said  he,  "  abundantly,    for  all 


280  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

the  love  you  showed  her.  Come, — if  you  will, — and 
be,  as  far  as  a  withered  heart  will  let  you,  all  that 
she  wished.  All  is  yours — except  what  will  be 
buried  with  her." 

Ellen  was  awed  and  pained,  very  much.  Not 
because  the  words  and  manner  were  sad  and 
solemn  ;  it  was  the  tone  that  distressed  her.  There 
was  no  tearfulness  in  it ;  it  trembled  a  little ;  it 
seemed  to  come  indeed  from  a  withered  heart. 
She  shook  with  the  effort  she  made  to  control  her- 
self. John  asked  her  presently  what  she  had  come 
for. 

"  A  gentleman,"  said  Ellen, — "  there's  a  gentle- 
man— a  stranger " 

He  went  immediately  out  to  see  him,  leaving  her 
standing  there.  Ellen  did  not  know  whether  to  go 
or  stay ;  she  thought  from  his  not  taking  her 
with  him  he  wished  her  to  stay ;  she  stood  doubt- 
fully. Presently  she  heard  steps  coming  back 
along  the  hall — steps  of  two  persons — the  door 
opened,  and  the  strange  gentleman  came  in.  No 
stranger  to  Ellen  !  she  knew  him  in  a  moment ;  it 
was  her  old  friend,  her  friend  of  the  boat — Mr. 
George  Marsh  man. 

Mr.  Humphreys  rose  up  to  meet  him,  and  the 
two  gentlemen  shook  hands  in  silence.  Ellen  had 
at  first  shrunk  out  of  the  way  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  and  now  when  she  saw  an  opportunity 
she  was  going  to  make  her  escape  ;  but  John  gen- 
tly detained  her  ;  and  she  stood  still  by  his  side, 
though  with  a  kind  of  feeling  that  it  was  not  there 
the  best  place  or  time  for  her  old  friend  to  recog- 
nize her.  He  was  sitting  by  Mr.  Humphreys  and 
for    the  present  quite  occupied  with  him.     Ellen 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  281 

thought  nothing  of  what  they  were  saying ;  with 
eyes  eagerly  fixed  upon  Mr.  Marshman  she  was 
reading  memory's  long  story  over  again.  The  same 
pleasant  look  and  kind  tone  that  she  remembered 
so  well  came  to  comfort  her  in  her  first  sorrow, — 
the  old  way  of  speaking,  and  even  of  moving  an  arm 
or  hand,  the  familiar  figure  and  face  ;  how  they 
took  Ellen's  thoughts  back  to  the  deck  of  the 
steamboat,  the  hymns,  the  talks ;  the  love  and 
kindness  that  led  and  persuaded  her  so  faithfully 
and  effectually  to  do  her  duty  ; — it  was  all  present 
again  ;  and  Ellen  gazed  at  him  as  at  a  picture  of  the 
past,  forgetting  for  the  moment  everything  else. 
The  same  love  and  kindness  were  endeavoring 
now  to  say  something  for  Mr.  Humphreys*  relief  ;  it 
was  a  hard  task.  The  old  gentleman  heard  and 
answered,  for  the  most  part  briefly,  but  SO'  as  to 
show  that  his  friend  labored  in  vain ;  the  bitter- 
ness and  hardness  of  grief  were  unallayed  yet.  It 
was  not  till  John  made  some  slight  remark  that  Mr. 
Marshman  turned  his  head  that  way  ;  he  looked 
for  a  moment  in  some  surprise,  and  then  said,  his 
countenance  lightening,  "  Is  that  Ellen  Mont- 
gomery ? " 

Ellen  sprang  across  at  that  word  to  take  his  out- 
stretched hand.  But  as  she  felt  the  well-remem- 
bered grasp  of  it,  and  met  the  old  look,  the  thought 
of  which  she  had  treasured  up  for  years, — it  was 
too  much.  Back  as  in  a  flood  to  her  heart  seemed 
to  come  at  once  all  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the 
time  since  then  ; — the  difference  of  this  meeting 
from  the  joyful  one  she  had  so  often  pictured  to 
herself ;  the  sorrow  of  that  time  mixed  with  the  sor- 
row now  ;  and    the  sense  that  the  very  hand   that 


282  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

had  wiped  those  first  tears  away  was  the  one  now 
laid  in  the  dust  by  death.  All  thronged  on  her 
heart  at  once  ;  and  it  was  too  much.  She  had  scarce 
touched  Mr.  Marshman's  hand  when  she  hastily 
withdrew  her  own,  and  gave  way  to  an  overwhelm- 
ing burst  of  sorrow.  It  was  infectious.  There  was 
such  an  utter  absence  of  all  bitterness  or  hardness 
in  the  tone  of  this  grief ;  there  was  so  touching  an 
expression  of  submission  mingled  with  it,  that  even 
Mr.  Humphreys  was  overcome.  Ellen  was  not  the 
only  subdued  weeper  there  ;  not  the  only  one  whose 
tears  came  from  a  broken-up  heart.  For  a  few 
minutes  the  silence  of  stifled  sobs  was  in  the  room, 
till  Ellen  recovered  enough  to  make  her  escape  ; 
and  then  the  color  of  sorrow  was  lightened,  in  one 
breast  at  least. 

"  Brother,"  said  Mr.  Humphreys, — "  I  can  hear 
you  now  better  than  I  could  a  little  while  ago.  I 
had  almost  forgotten  that  God  is  good.  '  Light  in 
the  darkness ;  ' — I  see  it  now.  That  child  has 
given  me  a  lesson." 

Ellen  did  not  know  what  had  passed  around  her, 
nor  what  had  followed  her  quitting  the  room.  But 
she  thought  when  John  came  to  the  tea-table  he 
looked  relieved.  If  his  general  kindness  and 
tenderness  of  manner  toward  herself  could  have 
been  greater  than  usual,  she  might  have  thought  it 
was  that  night  ;  but  she  only  thought  he  felt  better. 

Mr.  Marshman  was  not  permitted  to  leave  the 
house.  He  was  a  great  comfort  to  everybody. 
Not  himself  overburdened  with  sorrow,  he  was 
able  to  make  that  effort  for  the  good  of  the  rest 
which  no  one  yet  had  been  equal  to.  The  whole 
family,    except    Mr.    Humphreys,    were    gathered 


THh   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


*&3 


together  at  this  time  ;  and  his  grave,  cheerful  un- 
ceasing kindness  made  that  by  far  the  most  com- 
fortable meal  that  had  been  takea  It  was  ex- 
ceeding grateful  to  Ellen  to  see  and  hear  him,  from 
the  old  remembrance  as  well  as  the  present  effect. 

And  he  had  not  forgotten  his  old  kindness  for 
her;  she  saw  it  in  his  look,  his  words,  his  voice,, 
shown  in  every  way ;  and  the  feeling  that  she  had 
got  her  old  friend  again  and  should  never  lose 
him  now  gave  her  more  deep  pleasure  than  any- 
thing else  could  possibly  have  done  at  that  time. 
His  own  family  too  had  not  seen  him  in  a  long 
time,  so  his  presence  was  a  matter  of  general 
satisfaction. 

Later  in  the  evening  .alien  was  sitting  beside 
him  on  the  sofa,  looking  and  listening, — he  was 
like  a  piece  of  old  music  to  her, — when  John  came 
to  the  back  of  the  sofa  and  said  he  wanted  to 
speak  to  her.  She  went  with  him  to  the  other  side 
of  the  room. 

"  Ellie,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  think  my 
father  would  like  to  hear  you  sing  a  hymn, — do  you 
think  you  could  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  up,  with  a  peculiar  mixture  of  un- 
certainty and  resolution  in  her  countenance,  and 
said  yes. 

"  Not  if  it  will  pain  you  too  much, — and  not 
unless  you  think  you  can  surely  go  through  with  it, 
Ellen,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  No,"  said  Ellen  ;— "  I  will  try." 

"  Will  it  not  give  you  too  much  pain  ?  do  yon 
think  you  can  ?  " 

"  No — I  will  try,"  she  repeated. 

As  she  went  along  the  hall  she  said  and  resolvedi 


284  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

to  herself  that  she  would  do  it.  The  library  was 
dark  ;  coming  from  the  light  Ellen  at  first  could  see 
nothing.  John  placed  her  in  a  chair,  and  went 
away  himself  to  a  little  distance  where  he  remained 
perfectly  still.  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  for  a  minute,  and  prayed  for  strength  ;  she 
was  afraid  to  try. 

Alice  and  her  brother  were  remarkable  for 
beauty  of  voice  and  utterance.  The  latter  Ellen 
had  in  part  caught  from  them  ;  in  the  former  she 
thought  herself  greatly  inferior.  Perhaps  she 
underrated  herself  ;  her  voice,  though  not  indeed 
powerful,  was  low  and  sweet  and  very  clear ;  and 
the  entire  simplicity  and  feeling  with  which  she 
sang  hymns  was  more  effectual  than  any  higher 
qualities  of  tone  and  compass.  She  had  been 
very  much  accustomed  to  sing  with  Alice,  who 
excelled  in  beautiful  truth  and  simplicity  of  ex- 
pression ;  listening  with  delight,  as  she  had  often 
•done,  and  often  joining  with  her,  Ellen  had  caught 
something  of  her  manner. 

She  thought  nothing  of  all  this  now  ;  she  had 
a  trying  task  to  go  through.  Sing  ! — then,  and 
there  ! — And  what  should  she  sing  ?  All  that  class 
of  hymns  that  bore  directly  on  the  subject  of  their 
sorrow  must  be  left  on  one  side ;  she  hardly  dared 
think  of  them.  Instinctively  she  took  up  another 
class,  that  without  baring  the  wound  would  lay  the 
balm  close  to  it.  A  few  minutes  of  deep  stillness 
were  in  the  dark  room ;  then  very  low,  and  in 
tones  that  trembled  a  little,  rose  the  words, 

How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 

In  a  believer's  ear  ; 
It  soothes  his  sorrows,  heals  his  wounds, 

And  drives  away  his  fear. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  285 

The  tremble  in  her  voice  ceased,  as  she  went  on 

It  makes  the  wounded  spirit  whole, 

And  calms  the  troubled  breast ; 
'Tis  manna  to  the  hungry  soul, 

And  to  the  weary,  rest. 

By  Him  my  prayers  acceptance  gain, 

Although  with  sin  denied  ; 
Satan  accuses  me  in  vain, 
And  I  am  owned  a  child. 

Weak  is  the  effort  of  my  heart, 

And  cold  my  warmest  thought, — 
But  when  I  see  Thee  as  thou  art, 

I'll  praise  Thee  as  I  ought. 

Till  then  I  would  Thy  love  proclaim 

With  every  lab 'ring  breath; 
And  may  the  music  of  Thy  name 

Refresh  my  soul  in  death. 

Ellen  paused  a  minute.  There  was  not  a  sound 
to  be  heard  in  the  room.  She  thought  of  the 
hymn,  "  Loving  Kindness ; "  but  the  tune,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  words,  was  too  lively.  Her 
mother's  favorite,  "  'Tis  my  happiness  below," 
but  Ellen  could  not  venture  that ;  she  strove  to 
forget  it  as  fast  as  possible.  She  sang,  clearly  and 
sweetly  as  ever  now, 


Hark,  my  soul,  it  is  the  Lord, 
'Tis  thy  Saviour,  hear  His  word ; — 
Jesus  speaks,  and  speaks  to  thee, 
"  Say,  poor  sinner,  lovest  thou  Me? 

"  I  delivered  thee  when  bound, 
And  when  bleeding  healed  thy  wound  ; 
Sought  thee  wandering,  set  thee  right, 
Turned  thy  darkness  into  light. 

"  Can  a  mother's  tender  care 
Cease  toward  the  child  she  bare  ? 
Yea — she  may  forgetful  be, 
Yet  will  I  remember  thee- 


26»  THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Mine  ie  an  unchanging  love  ; 
Higher  than  the  heights  above, 
Deeper  than  the  depths  beneath, 
Free  and  faithful,  strong  as  death.. 

'*  Thou  shalt  see  My  glory  soon, 
When  the  work  of  life  is  done, 
Partner  of  My  throne  shall  be, — 
Say,  poor  sinner,  lovest  thou  Me  ?  n 

Lord,  it  is  my  chief  complaint, 
That  my  love  is  weak  and  faint ; 
Yet  I  love  Thee  and  adore, — 
Oh  for  grace  to  love  Thee  more  I 

Ellen's  task  was  no  longer  painful,  but  most  de* 
lightful.  She  hoped  she  was  doing  some  good  ; 
and  that  hope  enabled  her,  after  the  first  trembling 
beginning,  to  go  on  without  any  difficulty.  She 
was  not  thinking  of  herself.  It  was  very  well  she 
could  not  see  the  effect  upon  her  auditors. 
Through  the  dark  her  eyes  could  only  just  discern 
a  dark  figure  stretched  upon  the  sofa  and  another 
standing  by  the  the  mantel-piece.  The  room  was 
profoundly  still,  except  when  she  was  singing, 
The  choice  of  hymns  gave  her  the  greatest  trouble. 
She  thought  of  "Jerusalem,  my  happy  home,"  but 
it  would  not  do ;  she  and  Alice  had  too  often  sung 
it  in  strains  of  joy.  Happily  came  to  her  mind  the 
beautiful, 

"How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord,"  etc. 

She  went  through  all  the  seven  long  verses. 
Still,  when  Ellen  paused  at  the  end  of  this,  the 
breathless  silence  seemed  to  invite  her  to  go  on. 
She  waited  a  minute  to  gather  breath.  The 
blessed  words  had  gone  down  into  her  very  heart, 
did  they  ever  seem  half  so  sweet  before  ?  She 
was  cheered  and    strengthened,  and  thought    she 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  287 

could  go  through  with  the  next  hymn,  though  it 
(had  been  much  loved  and  often  used,  both  by  her 
mother  and  Alice. 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  billows  near  me  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  nigh. 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  be  past ; — 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, — 

0  receive  my  soul  at  last ! 

Other  refuge  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul   on  Thee. 
Leave,  ah  !   leave  me  not  alone  1 

Still  support  and  comfort  me. 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring ; — 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing. 

Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want; 

More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find  ; 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind, 
Just  aud  holy  is  Thy  name, 

1  am  all  unrighteousness  ; 
Vile  and  full  of  sin  I  am, 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Still  silence  ; — "  silence  that  spoke  !  "  Ellen  did 
not  know  what  it  said,  except  that  her  hearers  did 
not  wish  her  to  stop.  Her  next  was  a  very  favorite 
hymn  of  them  all. 

"  What  are  these   in  bright  array,"  etc. 

Ellen  had  allowed  her  thoughts  to  travel  too  far 
along  with  the  words,  for  in  the  last  lines  her  voice 
was  unsteady  and  faint.  She  was  fain  to  make  a 
longer  pause  than  usual  to  recover  herself.  But  in 
vain ;  the  tender  nerve  was  touched  ;  there  was 
«io  stilling  its  quivering. 


288  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD 

"  Ellen  " — said  Mr.  Humphreys  then  after  a  few 
minutes.  She  rose  and  went  to  the  sofa.  He 
folded  her  close  to  his  breast. 

"Thank  you,  my  child,"  he  said,  presently; — 
"  you  have  been  a  comfort  to  me.  Nothing  but  a 
choir  of  angels  could  have  been  sweeter." 

As  Ellen  went  away  back  through  the  hall  her 
tears  almost  choked  her ;  but  for  all  that,  there 
was  a  strong  throb  of  pleasure  at  her  heart. 

"  I  have  been  a  comfort  to  him,"  she  repeated. 
"  Oh,  dear  Alice  !— so  I  will  !  " 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

"  A  child  no  more  ! — a  maiden  now — 
A  graceful  maiden  with  a  gentle  brow ; 
A  cheek  tinged  lightly,  and  a  dove-like  eye, 
And  all  hearts  bless  her  as  she  passes  by." 

Mary  Howitt. 

The  whole  Marshman  family  returned  to  Ventnor 
immediately  after  the  funeral,  Mr.  George  excepted  ; 
he  stayed  with  Mr.  Humphreys  over  the  Sabbath, 
and  preached  for  him  ;  and  much  to  every  one's, 
pleasure  lingered  still  a  day  or  two  longer  ;  then 
he  was  obliged  to  leave  them.  John  also  must  go 
back  to  Doncaster  for  a  few  weeks ;  he  would  not 
be  able  to  get  home  again  before  the  early  part  of 
August.  For  the  month  between  and  as  much 
longer  indeed  as  possible,  Mrs.  Marshman  wished 
to  have  Ellen  at  Ventnor  ;  assuring  her  that  it  was 
to  be  her  home  always  whenever  she  chose  to  make 
it  so.  At  first  neither  Mrs.  Marshman  nor  her 
daughters  would  take  any  denial  ;  and  old  Mr. 
Marshman  was  fixed  upon  it.  But  Ellen  begged 
with  tears  that  she  might  stay  at  home  and  begin 
at  once,  as  far  she   could,  to  take  Alice's  place 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  2^9 

Her  kind  friends  insisted  that  it  would  do  her  harm 
to  be  left  alone  for  so  long  at  such  a  season.  Mr. 
Humphreys  in  the  best  of  times  kept  very  much 
to  himself,  and  now  he  would  more  than  ever ;  she 
would  be  very  lonely.  "  But  how  lonely  he  will  be 
if  I  go  away  !  "  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  can't  go."  Find- 
ing that  her  heart  was  set  upon  it,  and  that  it  would 
be  a  real  grief  to  her  to  go  to  Ventnor,  John  at  last 
joined  to  excuse  her  ;  and  he  made  an  arrangement 
with  Mrs.  Vawse  instead  that  she  should  come  and 
stay  with  Ellen  at  the  parsonage  till  he  came  back. 
This  gave  Ellen  great  satisfaction  ;  and  her  kind 
Ventnor  friends  were  obliged  unwillingly  to  leave 
her. 

The  first  few  days  after  John's  departure  were 
indeed  sad  days — very  sad  to  every  one  ;  it  could 
not  be  otherwise.  Ellen  drooped  miserably.  She 
had,  however,  the  best  possible  companion  in  her 
old  Swiss  friend.  Her  good  sense,  her  steady 
cheerfulness,  her  firm  principle,  were  always  awake 
for  Ellen's  good,  ever  ready  to  comfort  her,  to 
cheer  her,  to  prevent  her  from  giving  undue  way 
to  sorrow,  to  urge  her  to  useful  exertion.  Affection 
and  gratitude,  to  the  living  and  the  dead,  gave 
powerful  aid  to  these  efforts.  Ellen  rose  up  in  the 
morning  and  lay  down  at  night  with  the  present 
pressing  wish  to  do  and  be  for  the  ease  and  com- 
fort of  her  adopted  father  and  brother  all  that  it 
was  possible  for  her.  Very  soon,  so  soon  as  she 
could  rouse  herself  to  anything,  she  began  to  turn 
over  in  her  mind  all  manner  of  ways  and  means  for 
this  end.  And  in  general,  whatever  Alice  would 
have  wished,  what  John  did  wish,  was  law  to  her. 

"  Margery,"  said    Ellen,  one    day,  "  I   wish  you 


rgo 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


would  tell  me  all  the  things  Alice  used  to  do  ;  sa 
that  I  may  begin  to  do  them,  you  know,  as  soon  as 
I  can.5' 

"  What  things,  Miss  Ellen  ?  " 

'•  I  mean,  the  things  she  used  to  do  about  the 
house,  or  to  help  you, — don't  you  know  ? — all  sorts 
of  things.  I  want  to  know  them  all,  so  that  I  may 
do  them  as  she  did.     I  want  to  very  much." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Ellen  dear,"  said  Margery,  tearfully, 
*'  you  are  too  little  and  tender  to  do  them  things  ; 
— I'd  be  sorry  to  see  you,  indeed  !  " 

"  Why,  no,  I  am  not,  Margery,"  said  Ellen  ; — 
"  don't  you  know  how  I  used  to  do  at  Aunt  For- 
tune's ?  Now  tell  me — please,  dear  Margery  !  If 
I  can't  do  it,  I  won't,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Ellen,  she  used  to  see  to  various 
things  about  the  house  ; — I  don't  know,  as  I  can 
tell  'em  all  directly  ;  some  was  to  help  me,  and 
some  to  please  her  father,  or  Mr.  John,  if  he  was 
at  home ;  she  thought  of  every  one  else  before 
herself,  sure  enough." 

"  Well,  what,  Margery  ?  what  were  they  ?  Tell 
me  all  you  can  remember." 

"  Why,  Miss  Ellen, — for  one  thing, — she  used 
to  go  into  the  library  every  morning,  to  put  it  in 
order,  and  dust  the  books  and  papers  and  things  ; 
in  fact,  she  took  the  charge  of  that  room  entirely  ; 
I  never  went  into  it  at  all,  unless  once  or  twice 
in  the  year,  or  to  wash  the  windows." 

Ellen  looked  grave ;  she  thought  with  herself 
there  might  be  a  difficulty  in  the  way  of  her  taking 
this  part  of  Alice's  daily  duties ;  she  did  not  feel 
that  she  had  the  freedom  of  the  library. 

"  And  then,"  said  Margery,  "she  used  to   skin? 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  291 

the  cream  for  me,  most  mornings,  when  I'd  be 
busy  ;  and  wash  up  the  breakfast  things " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  all  about  the  breakfast  things  !  " 
exclaimed  Ellen, — "  how  could  I  !  I'll  do  them  to 
be  sure,  after  this.  I  never  thought  of  them,  Mar- 
gery.    And  I'll  skim  the  cream  too." 

"  Dear  Miss  Ellen,  I  wouldn't  want  you  to  ;  I 
didn't  mention  it  for  that,  but  you  was  wishing  me 
to  tell  you — I  don't  want  you  to  trouble  your  dear 
little  head  about  such  work.  It  was  more  the 
thoughtfulness  that  cared  about  me  than  the  help 
of  all  she  could  do,  though  that  wasn't  a  little  ; — ■ 
I'll  get  along  well  enough  ! " 

"  But  I  should  like  to, — it  would  make  me  hap- 
pier ;  and  don't  you  think  /want  to  help  you  too, 
Margery  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  bless  you,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  Mar- 
gery, in  a  sort  of  desperation,  setting  down  one 
iron  and  taking  up  another,  "  don't  talk  in  that 
way,  or  you'll  upset  me  entirely. — I  ain't  a  bit  bet- 
ter than  a  child,"  said  she,  her  tears  falling  fast  on 
the  sheet  she  was  hurriedly  ironing. 

"  What  else,  dear  Margery  ? "  said  Ellen,  pres- 
ently.    "  Tell  me  what  else  ?  " 

"Well,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  Margery,  dashing  away 
the  water  from  either  eye, — "  she  used  to  look 
over  the  clothes  when  they  went  up  from  the  wash  ; 
and  put  them  away ;  and  mend  them  if  there  was 
any  places  wanted  mending." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  don't  know  how  to  manage  that," 
said  Ellen,  very  gravely. — "  There  is  one  thing  I 
can  do, — I  can  darn  stockings  very  nicely  ;  but 
that's  only  one  kind  of  mending.  I  don't  know 
much  about  the  other  kinds." 


292  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Ah,  well,  but  she  did,  however,"  said  Margery, 
searching  in  her  basket  of  clothes  for  some  partic- 
ular pieces.  "  A  beautiful  mender  she  was,  to  be 
sure  !  Look  here,  Miss  Ellen, — just  see  that  patch 
< — the  way  it  is  put  on — so  evenly  by  a  thread  all 
round  ;  and  the  stitches,  see — and  see  the  way 
this  rent  is  darned  down ; — oh,  that  was  the  way 
she  did  everything  !  " 

"  I  can't  do  it  so,"  said  Ellen,  sighing, — "  but  I 
can  learn ; — that  I  can  do.  You  will  teach  me, 
Margery,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  it's  more  than  I  can 
myself ;  but  I  will  tell  you  who  will  ;  and  that's 
Mrs.  Vawse.  I  am  thinking  it  was  her  she  learned 
of  in  the  first  place, — but  I  ain't  certain.  Any- 
how she's  a  first-rate  hand." 

"  Then  I'll  get  her  to  teach  me,"  said  Ellen  ; — 
"  that  will  do  very  nicely.  And  now,  Margery, 
what  else  ?  " 

"Oh  dear,  Miss  Ellen, — I  don't  know,— there 
was  a  thousand  little  things  that  I'd  only  recollect 
at  the  minute  ;  she'd  set  the  table  for  me  when  my 
hands  was  uncommon  full ;  and  often  she'd  come 
out  and  make  some  little  things  for  the  master 
when  I  wouldn't  have  the  time  to  do  the  same  my- 
self ; — and  I  can't  tell — one  can't  think  of  those 
things  but  just  at  the  minute.  Dear  Miss  Ellen,  I'd 
be  sorry  indeed,  to  see  you  a  trying  your  little 
hands  to  do  all  that  she  done." 

"  Never  mind,  Margery,"  said  Ellen,  and  she 
threw  her  arms  round  the  kind  old  woman  as  she 
spoke, — "  I  won't  trouble  you — and  you  won't  be 
troubled  if  I  am  awkward  about  anything  at  first, 
will  you  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  293 

Margery  could  only  throw  down  her  holder  to 
return  most  affectionately  as  well  as  respectfully 
Ellen's  caress  and  press  a  very  hearty  kiss  upon 
her  forehead. 

Ellen  next  went  to  Mrs.  Vawse  to  beg  her  help 
in  the  mending  and  patching  line.  Her  old  friend 
was  very  glad  to  see  her  take  up  anything  with 
interest,  and  readily  agreed  to  do  her  best  in  the 
matter.  So  some  old  clothes  were  looked  up ; 
pieces  of  linen,  cotton,  and  flannel  gathered  to- 
gether ;  a  large  basket  found  to  hold  all  these  rags 
of  shape  and  no  shape ;  and  for  the  next  week  or 
two  Ellen  was  indefatigable.  She  would  sit  mak- 
ing vain  endeavors  to  arrange  a  large  linen  patch 
properly,  till  her  cheeks  were  burning  with  excite- 
ment ;  and  bend  over  a  darn,  doing  her  best  to 
take  invisible  stitches,  till  Mrs.  Vawse  was  obliged 
to  assure  her  it  was  quite  unnecessary  to  take  so 
much  pains.  Taking  pains,  however,  is  the  sure 
way  to  success.  Ellen  could  not  rest  satisfied  till 
she  had  equalled  Alice's  patching  and  darning ; 
and  though  when  Mrs.  Vawse  left  her  she  had  not 
quite  reached  that  point,  she  was  bidding  fair  to 
do  so  in  a  little  while. 

In  other  things  she  was  more  at  home.  She 
could  skim  milk  well  enough,  and  immediately  be- 
gan to  do  it  for  Margery.  She  at  once  also  took 
upon  herself  the  care  of  the  parlor  cupboard  and 
all  the  things  in  it,  which  she  well  knew  had  been 
Alice's  office  ;  and,  thanks  to  Miss  Fortune's  train- 
ing, even  Margery  was  quite  satisfied  with  her  neat 
and  orderly  manner  of  doing  it.  Ellen  begged  her 
when  the  clothes  came  up  from  the  wash,  to  show 
her  where  everything  went,  so  that  for  the  future  she 


294  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

might  be  able  to  put  them  away ;  and  she  studied 
the  shelves  of  the  linen  closet,  and  the  chests  of 
drawers  in  Mr.  Humphreys'  room,  till  she  almost 
knew  them  by  heart.  As  to  the  library,  she  dared 
not  venture.  She  saw  Mr.  Humphreys  at  meals 
and  at  prayers, — only  then.  He  had  never  asked 
her  to  come  into  his  study  since  the  night  she  sang 
to  him,  and  as  for  her  asking — nothing  could  have 
been  more  impossible.  Even  when  he  was  out  of 
the  house,  out  by  the  hour,  Ellen  never  thought  of 
going  where  she  had  not  been  expressly  permitted 
to  go. 

When  Mr.  Van  Brunt  informed  his  wife  of 
Ellen's  purpose  to  desert  her  service  and  make 
her  future  home  at  the  parsonage,  the  lady's 
astonishment  was  only  less  than  her  indignation ; 
the  latter  not  at  all  lessened  by  learning  that  Ellen 
was  to  become  the  adopted  child  of  the  house. 
For  a  while  her  words  of  displeasure  were  poured 
forth  in  a  torrent ;  Mr.  Van  Brunt  meantime 
saying  very  little,  and  standing  by  like  a  steadfast 
rock  that  the  waves  dash  past,  not  upon.  She 
declared  this  was  "the  cap-sheaf  of  Miss  Hum- 
phreys' doings  ;  she  might  have  been  wise  enough  to 
have  expected  as  much ;  she  wouldn't  have  been 
such  a  fool  if  she  had  !  This  was  what  she  had  let 
Ellen  go  there  for  !  a  pretty  return  !  "  But  she  went 
on.  "  She  wondered  who  they  thought  they  had  to 
deal  with  ;  did  they  think  she  was  going  to  let  Ellen 
go  in  that  way  ?  she  had  the  first  and  only  right  to 
her ;  and  Ellen  had  no  more  business  to  go  and  give 
herself  away  than  one  of  her  oxen  ;  they  would 
find  it  out,  she  guessed,  pretty  quick  ;  Mr.  John 
and  all;  she'd  have  b^r  back  in  no  time!"     What 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD.  295 

were  her  thoughts  and  feelings,  when  after  having 
spent  her  breath  she  found  her  husband  quietly 
opposed  to  this  conclusion,  words  cannot  tell. 
Her  words  could  not ;  she  was  absolutely  dumb, 
till  he  had  said  his  say  ;  and  then,  appalled  by  the 
cerenity  of  his  manner  she  left  indignation  on  one 
side  for  the  present  and  began  to  argue  the  matter. 
But  Mr.  Van  Brunt  coolly  said  he  had  promised ; 
she  might  get  as  many  help  as  she  liked,  he  would 
pay  for  them  and  welcome ;  but  Ellen  would  have 
to  stay  where  she  was.  He  had  promised  Miss 
Alice ;  and  he  wouldn't  break  his  word  *  for  kings, 
lords,  and  commons."  A  most  extraordinary  ex- 
pletive for  a  good  republican, — which  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  had  probably  inherited  from  his  father  and 
grandfather.  What  can  waves  do  against  a  rock  ? 
The  whilom  Miss  Fortune  disdained  a  strugglr 
which  must  end  in  her  own  confusion,  and  wisely 
kept  her  chagrin  to  herself ;  never  even  approach 
ing  the  subject  afterwards,  with  him  or  any  other 
person.  Ellen  had  left  the  whole  matter  to  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  expecting  a  storm  and  not  wishing  to 
share  it.     Happily,  it  all  blew  over. 

As  the  month  drew  to  an  end,  and,  indeed,  long 
before,  Ellen's  thoughts  began  to  go  forward 
eagerly  to  John's  coming  home.  She  had  learned 
by  this  time  how  to  mend  clothes ;  she  had  grown 
somewhat  wonted  to  her  new  round  of  little  house- 
hold duties ;  in  everything  else  the  want  of  him 
was  felt.  Study  flagged  ;  though,  knowing  what 
his  wish  would  be,  and  what  her  duty  was,  she 
faithfully  tried  to  go  on  with  it.  She  had  no  heart 
for  riding  or  walking  by  herself.  She  was  lonely ; 
she     was     sorrowful  ;    she    was    weary ;    all    Mrs. 


296  THE  WIDl     WIDE  WORLD. 

Vawse's  pleasant  society  was  not  worth  the  mere 
knowledge  that  he  was  in  the  house ;  she  longed 
for  his  coming. 

He  had  written  what  day  they  might  expect  him. 
But  when  it  came,  Ellen  found  that  her  feeling 
had.  changed ;  it  did  not  look  the  bright  dav  she 
had*  expected  it  would.  Up  to  that  time  she  had 
thought  only  of  herself ;  now  she  remembered 
what  sort  of  a  coming  home  this  must  be  to  him  ; 
and  she  dreaded  almost  as  much  as  she  wished 
for  the  moment  of  his  arrival.  Mrs.  Vawse  was 
surprised  to  see  that  her  face  was  sadder  that  day 
than  it  had  been  for  many  past;  she  could  not 
understand  it.  Ellen  did  not  explain.  It  was  late 
in  the  day  before  he  reached  home,  and  her  anxious 
watch  of  hope  and  fear  for  the  sound  of  his  horse's 
leet  grew  very  painful.  She  busied  herself  with 
setting  the  tea-table ;  it  was  all  done  ;  and  she 
could  by  no  means  do  anything  else.  She  could 
not  go  to  the  door  to  listen  there  ;  she  remembered 
too  well  the  last  time ;  and  she  knew  he  would 
remember  it. 

He  came  at  last.  Ellen's  feeling  had  judgeu 
rightly  of  his,  for  the  greeting  was  without  a  word 
on  either  side ;  and  when  he  left  the  room  to  go  to 
his  father,  it  was  very,  very  long  before  he  came 
back.  And  it  seemed  to  Ellen  for  several  days 
that  he  was  more  grave  and  talked  less  than  even 
the  last  time  he  had  been  at  home.  She  was  sorry 
when  Mrs.  Vawse  proposed  to  leave  them.  But 
the  old  lady  wisely  said  they  would  all  feel  better 
when  she  was  gone  :  and  it  was  so.  Truly  as  she 
was  respected  and  esteemed,  on  all  sides,  it  was 
felt  a  relief  by  every  ->ne  of  the  family  when  sh* 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  297 

went  back  to  her  mountain-top.  They  were  left  to 
themselves ;  they  saw  what  their  numbers  were  ; 
there  was  no  restraint  upon  looks,  words,  or  silence. 
Ellen  saw  at  once  that  the  gentlemen  felt  easier, 
that  was  enough  to  make  her  so.  The  extreme 
oppression  that  had  grieved  and  disappointed  her 
the  first  few  days  after  John's  return  gave  place  to 
a  softened  gravity ;  and  the  household  fell  again 
into  all  its  old  ways  ;  only  that  upon  every  brow 
there  was  a  chastened  air  of  sorrow,  in  everything 
that  was  said,  a  tone  of  remembrance,  and  that  a 
little  figure  was  going  about  where  Alice's  used  to 
move  as  mistress  of  the  house. 

Thanks  to  her  brother,  that  little  figure  was  an 
exceeding  busy  one.  She  had  in  the  first  place  her 
household  duties,  in  discharging  which  she  was 
perfectly  untiring.  From  the  cream  skimmed  for 
Margery,  and  the  cups  of  coffee  poured  out  every 
morning  for  Mr.  Humphreys  and  her  brother,  to 
the  famous  mending  which  took  up  often  one  half 
of  Saturday,  whatever  she  did  was  done  with  her 
best  diligence  and  care  ;  and  from  love  to  both  the 
dead  and  the  living,  Ellen's  zeal  never  slackened. 
These  things,  however,  filled  but  a  small  part  of 
her  time,  let  her  be  as  particular  as  she  would  ;  and 
Mr.  John  effectually  hindered  her  from  being  too 
particular.  He  soon  found  a  plenty  for  both  her 
and  himself  to  do. 

Not  that  they  ever  forgot  or  tried  to  forget  Alice  ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  sought  to  remember  her, 
humbly,  calmly,  hopefully,  thankfully  !  By  diligent 
performance  of  duty,  by  Christian  faith,  by  conver- 
sation and  prayer,  they  strove  to  do  this,  and  aftef 


298  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

a  time  succeeded.  Sober  that  winter  was,  but  it 
was  very  far  from  being  an  unhappy  one. 

"  John,"  said  Ellen,  one  day,  some  time  aftel 
Mrs.  Vawse  had  left  them, — "  do  you  think  Mr. 
Humphreys  would  let  me  go  into  his  study  every 
day  when  he  is  out,  to  put  it  in  order  and  dust  the 
books  ? " 

"  Certainly.     But  why  does  not  Margery  do  it  ?  " 

"  She  does,  I  believe,  but  she  never  used  to  ;  and 
I  should  like  to  do  it  very  much  if  I  was  sure  he 
would  not  dislike  it.  I  would  be  careful  not  to 
disturb  anything  ;  I  would  leave  everything  just  as 
I  found  it." 

"  You  may  go  when  you  please,  and  do  what  you 
please  there,  Ellie." 

"  But  I  don't  like  to — I  couldn't  without  speak- 
ing to  him  first ;  I  should  be  afraid  he  would 
come  back  and  find  me  there,  and  he  might  think  I 
hadn't  had  leave." 

"  And  you  wish  me  to  speak  to  him, — is  that  it  ? 
Cannot  you  muster  resolution  enough  for  that, 
Ellie  ? " 

Ellen  was  satisfied,  for  she  knew  by  his  tone 
lie  would  do  what  she  wanted. 

"  Father."  said  John,  the  next  morning  at  break- 
fast ; — "  Ellen  wishes  to  takes  upon  herself  the 
daily  care  of  your  study,  but  she  is  afraid  to  .ven- 
ture without  being  assured  it  will  please  you  to  see 
her  there." 

The  old  gentleman  laid  his  hand  affectionately 
on  Ellen's  head,  and  told  her  she  was  welcome  to 
come  and  go  when  she  would  ; — the  whole  house 
was  hers. 

The  grave  kindness  and  tenderness  of  the  tone 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  299 

and  action  spoiled  Ellen's  breakfast.  She  could 
not  look  at  anybody  nor  hold  her  head  up  for  the 
rest  of  the  time. 

As  Alice  had  anticipated,  her  brother  was  called 
to  take  the  charge  of  a  church  at  Randolph,  and 
at  the  same  time  another  more  distant  was  offered 
him.  He  refused  them  both,  rightly  judging 
that  his  place  for  the  present  was  at  home.  But 
the  call  from  Randolph  being  pressed  upon  him 
very  much,  he  at  length  agreed  to  preach  for  them 
during  the  winter ;  riding  thither  for  the  purpose 
every  Saturday  and  returning  to  Carra-carra  on 
Monday. 

As  the  winter  wore  on  a  grave  cheerfulness  stole 
over  the  household.  Ellen  little  thought  how  much 
she  had  to  do  with  it.  She  rjjver  heard  Margery  tell 
her  husband,  which  she  often  did,  with  great  affec- 
tion, "  that  that  blessed  child  was  the  light  of  the 
house."  And  those  who  felt  it  the  most  said  noth- 
ing. Ellen  was  sure,  indeed,  from  the  way  in  which 
Mr.  Humphreys  spoke  to  her,  looked  at  her,  now 
and  then  laid  his  hand  on  her  head,  and  sometimes, 
very  rarely,  kissed  her  forehead,  that  he  loved  her 
And  loved  to  see  her  about ;  and  that  her  wish  of 
supplying  Alice's  place  was  in  some  little  measure 
fulfilled.  Few  as  those  words  and  looks  were,  they 
said  more  to  Ellen  than  whole  discourses  would 
from  other  people  ;  the  least  of  them  gladdened  her 
heart  with  the  feeling  that  she  was  a  comfort  to  him. 
But  she  never  knew  how  much.  Deep  as  the  gloom 
still  over  him  was,  Ellen  never  dreamed  how  much 
deeper  it  would  have  been,  but  for  the  little  figure 
flitting  round  and  filling  up  the  vacancy  ;  how  much 
lie  reposed  on  the  gentle  "ook  of  affection,  the  pleas- 


300  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

ant  voice,  the  watchful  thoughtfulness  that  nevei 
left  anything  undone  that  she  could  do  for  his 
pleasure.  Perhaps  he  did  not  know  it  himself. 
She  was  not  sure  he  even  noticed  many  of  the  little 
things  she  daily  did  or  tried  to  do  for  him.  Always 
silent,  and  reserved,  he  was  more  so  now  than  ever  ; 
she  saw  him  little,  and  very  seldom  long  at  a  time, 
unless  when  they  were  riding  to  church  together  \ 
he  was  always  in  his  study  or  abroad.  But  the 
trifles  she  thought  he  did  not  see  were  noted  and 
registered,  and  repaid  with  all  the  affection  he  had 
to  give. 

As  for  Mr.  John,  it  never  came  into  Ellen's  head 
to  think  whether  she  was  a  comfort  to  him ;  he  was 
a  comfort  to  her  ;  she  looked  at  it  in  quite  another 
point  of  view.  He  had  gone  to  his  old  sleeping- 
room  upstairs  which  Margery  had  settled  with  her- 
self he  would  make  his  study  ;  and  for  that  he  had 
taken  the 'sitting-room.  This  was  Ellen's  study  toot, 
so  she  was  constantly  with  him ;  and  of  the 
quietest  she  thought  her  movements  would  have 
to  be. 

"  What  are  you  stepping  so  softly  for  ?  "  said  he, 
one  day,  catching  her  hand  as  she  was  passing 
near  him. 

"  You  were  busy — I  thought  you  were  busy," 
said  Ellen. 

"  And  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  was  afraid  of  disturbing  you." 

"  You  never  disturb  me,"  said  he  ; — "  you  need 
not  fear  it.  Step  as  you  please,  and  do  not  shut 
the  doors  carefully.  I  see  you  and  hear  you  ;  but 
without  any  disturbance." 

Ellen  found  it  was  so.     But  she  was  an  exception 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  301 

to  the  general  rule  ;  other  people  disturbed  him,  as 
she  had  one  or  two  occasions  of  knowing. 

Of  one  thing  she  was  perfectly  sure,  whatever  he 
might  be  doing, — that  he  saw  and  heard  her  ;  and 
equally  sure  that  if  anything  were  not  right  she 
should  sooner  or  later  hear  of  it.  But  this  was  a 
censorship  Ellen  rather  loved  than  feared.  In  the 
first  place,  she  was  never  misunderstood  ;  in  the 
second,  however  ironical  and  severe  he  might  be  to 
others,  and  Ellen  knew  he  could  be  both  when 
there  was  occasion,  he  never  was  either  to  her. 
With  great  plainness  always,  but  with  an  equally 
happy  choice  of  time  and  manner,  he  either  said 
or  looked  what  he  wished  her  to  understand.  This 
happened,  indeed,  only  about  comparative  trifles ; 
to  have  seriously  displeased  him,  Ellen  would  have 
thought  the  last  great  evil  that  could  fall  upon  her 
in  this  world. 

One  day  Margery  came  i  .it )  the  room  with  a 
paper  in  her  hand. 

"  Miss  Ellen,"  said  she,  in  a  low  tone, — "  here 
is  Anthony  Fox  again — he  has  brought  another  of 
his  curious  letters  that  he  wants  to  know  if  Miss 
Ellen  will  be  so  good  as  to  write  out  for  him  once 
more.  He  says  he  is  ashamed  to  trouble  you  so 
much." 

Ellen  was  reading,  comfortably  ensconced  in  the 
corner  of  the  wide  sofa.  She  gave  a  glance,  a  most 
ungratified  one,  at  the  very  original  document  in 
Margery's  hand.     Unpromising  it  certainly  looked. 

"  Another  !  Dear  me  ! — I  wonder  if  there  isn't 
somebody  else  he  could  get  to  do  it  for  him,  Mar- 
gery !  I  think  I  have  had  my  share.  You  don't 
know  what  a  piece  of  work  it  is,  to   copy  out  one 


g02  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

of  those  scrawls.  It  takes  me  ever  so  long  in  tha 
first  place  to  find  what  he  has  written,  and  then  to 
put  it  so  that  any  one  else  can  make  sense  of  it — 
I've  got  about  enough  of  it.  Don't  you  suppose 
he  could  find  plenty  of  other  people  to  do  it  for 
him?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Ellen, — I  suppose  he 
could." 

"  Then  ask  him,  do  ;  won't  you,  Margery  ?  I'm 
so  tired  of  it !  and  this  is  the  third  one  ;  and  I've 
got  something  else  to  do.  Ask  him  if  there  isn't 
somebody  else  he  can  get  to  do  it ; — if  there  isn't, 
I  will ; — tell  him  I  am  busy." 

Margery  withdrew,  and  Ellen  buried  herself  again 
in  her  book.  Anthony  Fox  was  a  poor  Irishman, 
whose  uncouth  attempts  at  a  letter  Ellen  had  once 
offered  to  write  out  and  make  straight  for  him, 
upon  hearing  Margery  tell  of  his  lamenting  that 
he  could  not  make  one  fit  to  send  home  to  his 
mother. 

Presently  Margery  came  in  again,  stopping  this 
time  at  the  table  which  Mr.  John  had  pushed  to 
the  far  side  of  the  room  to  get  away  from  the  fire. 

';  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  she  said, — "  I  am 
ashamed  to  be  so  troublesome, — but  this  Irish  body, 
this  Anthony  Fox,  has  begged  me,  and  I  didn't 
know  how  to  refuse  him,  to  come  in  and  ask  for  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  a  pen  for  him,  sir, — he  wants  to 
copy  a  letter, — if  Mr.  John  would  be  so  good  ;  a 
quill  pen,  sir,  if  you  please  ;  he  cannot  write  with 
any  other." 

"  No,"  said  John,  coolly.     "  Ellen  will  do  it." 

Margery  looked  in  some  doubt  from  the  table  to 
the  sofa,  but  Ellen   instantly  rose  up   and  with  a 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  303 

burning  cheek  came  forward  and  took  the  paper 
from  the  hand  where  Margery  still  held  it. 

"  Ask  him  to  wait  a  little  while,  Margery,"  she 
said,  hurriedly, — "  I'll  do  it  as  soon  as  I  can, — tell 
him  in  half  an  hour." 

It  was  not  a  very  easy  nor  quick  job.  Ellen 
worked  at  it  patiently,  and  finished  it  well  by  the 
end  of  the  half  hour  ;  though  with  a  burning  cheek 
still :  and  a  dimness  over  her  e_)  es  frequently  obliged 
her  to  stop  till  she  could  clear  them.  It  was  done, 
and  she  carried  it  out  to  the  kitchen  herself. 

The  poor  man's  thanks  were  very  warm  ;  but 
that  was  not  what  Ellen  wanted.  She  could  not 
rest  till  she  had  got  another  word  from  her  brother. 
He  was  busy  ;  she  dared  not  speak  to  him  ;  she  sat 
fidgeting  and  uneasy  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa  till 
it  was  time  to  get  ready  for  riding.  She  had  plenty 
of  time  to  make  up  her  mind  about  the  right  and 
the  wrong  of  her  own  conduct. 

During  the  ride  he  was  just  as  usual,  and  she 
began  to  think  he  did  not  mean  to  say  anything 
more  on  the  matter.  Pleasant  talk  and  pleasant 
exercise  had  almost  driven  it  out  of  her  head,  when 
as  they  were  walking  their  horses  over  a  level  place, 
he  suddenly  began. 

"  By  the  by,  you  are  too  busy,  Ellie,"  said  he. 
"  Which  of  your  studies  shall  we  cut  of!  ? " 

"Please,  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen,  blushing, — "  don't 
say  anything  about  that !  I  was  not  studying  at 
all — I  was  just  amusing  myself  with  a  book — I  was 
only  selfish  and  lazy." 

"  Only — I  would  rather  you  were  too  busy,  Ellie." 

Ellen's  eyes  filled. 

"  I  was  wrong,"    she  said, — "  I  knew  it  at  the 


304  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

time, — at  least  as  soon  as  as  you  spoke  I  knew  it; 
and  a  little  before; — I  was  very  wrong!  " 

And  his  keen  eye  saw  that  the  confession  was 
not  out  of  compliment  to  him  merely;  it  came 
from  the  heart. 

"  You  are  right  now,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  But 
how  are  your  reins?" 

Ellen's  heart  was  at  rest  again. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  them,"  said  she  gayly, — "  I  was 
thinking  of  something  else." 

''You  must  not  talk  when  you  are  riding,  unless 
you  can  contrive  to  manage  two  things  at  once; 
and  no  more  lose  command  of  your  horse  than 
you  would  of  yourself." 

FHen's  eye  met  his  with  all  the  contrition,  affev, 
tip m,  and  ingenuousness  that  even  he  wished  to  see 
there;  and  they  put  their  horses  to  the  canter. 

This  winter  was  in  many  ways  a  very  precious 
one  to  Ellen.  French  gave  her  now  no  trouble; 
she  was  a  clever  arithmetician,  she  knew  geography 
admirably,  and  was  tolerably  at  home  in  both  Eng- 
lish and  American  history;  the  way  was  cleared  for 
the  course  of  improvement  in  which  her  brother's 
hand  led  and  helped  her.  He  put  her  into  Latin; 
carried  on  the  study  of  natural  philosophy  they  had 
begun  the  year  before,  and  which,  with  his  instruc- 
tions, was  perfectly  delightful  to  Ellen;  he  gave 
her  some  works  of  stronger  reading  than  she  had 
yet  tried,  besides  histories  in  French  and  English, 
and  higher  branches  of  arithmetic.  These  things 
were  not  crowded  together  so  as  to  fatigue,  nor 
hurried  through  so  as  to  overload.  Carefully  and 
thoroughly  she  was  obliged  to  puther  mind  through 
every  subject  they  entered  upon;  and  just  at  that 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  305 

age,  opening  as  her  understanding  was,  it  grappled 
eagerly  with  all  that  he  gave  her,  as  well  from  love 
to  learning  as  from  love  to  him.  In  reading  too, 
she  began  to  take  new  and  strong  delight.  Espe- 
cially two  or  three  new  English  periodicals,  which 
John  sent  for  on  purpose  for  her,  were  mines  of 
pleasure  to  Ellen.  There  was  no  fiction  in  them 
either  ;  they  were  as  full  of  instruction  as  of  interest. 
At  all  times  of  the  day  and  night,  in  her  intervals 
of  business,  Ellen  might  be  seen  with  one  of  these 
in  her  hand,  nestled  among  the  cushions  of  the 
sofa,  or  on  a  little  bench  by  the  side  of  the  fireplace 
in  the  twilight,  where  she  could  have  the  benefit  of 
the  blaze,  which  she  loved  to  read  by  as  well  as 
ever.  Sorrowful  remembrances  were  then  flown, 
all  things  present  were  out  of  view,  and  Ellen's 
face  was  dreamingly  happy. 

It  was  well  there  was  always  somebo*dy  by,  who, 
whatever  he  might  himself  be  doing,  never  lost 
sight  of  her.  If  ever  Ellen  was  in  danger  of  bend- 
ing too  long  over  her  studies  or  indulging  herself 
too  much  in  the  sofa-corner,  she  was  sure  to  be 
broken  off  to  take  an  hour  or  two  of  smart  exercise, 
riding  or  walking,  or  to  recite  some  lesson  (and 
their  recitations  were  very  lively  things),  or  to  read 
aloud,  or  to  talk.  Sometimes  if  he  saw  that  she 
seemed  to  be  drooping  or  a  little  sad,  he  would 
come  and  sit  down  by  her  side  or  call  her  to  his, 
find  out  what  she  was  thinking  about ;  and  then, 
instead  of  slurring  it  over,  talk  of  it  fairly  and  set  it 
before  her  in  such  a  light  that  it  was  impossible 
to  think  of  it  again  gloomily,  for  that  day  at  least. 
Sometimes  he  took  other  ways  ;  but  never  when  he 
was  present  allowed  her  long  to  look  weary  or  sor« 
20 


306  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

rowful.  He  often  read  to  her,  and  every  day  made 
her  read  aloud  to  him.  This  Ellen  disliked  very 
much  at  first,  and  ended  with  as  much  liking  it. 
She  had  an  admirable  teacher.  He  taught  her  how 
to  manage  her  voice  and  how  to  manage  the  lan- 
guage ;  in  both  which  he  excelled  himself,  and  was 
determined  that  she  should  ;  and  besides  this  their 
reading  often  led  to  talking  that  Ellen  delighted  in. 
Always  when  he  was  making  copies  for  her  she 
read  to  him,  and  once  at  any  rate  in  the  course  of 
the  day. 

Every  day  when  the  weather  would  permit,  the 
Black  Prince  and  the  Brownie  with  their  respective 
riders  might  be  seen  abroad  in  the  country,  far  and 
wide.  In  the  course  of  their  rides  Ellen's  horse- 
manship was  diligently  perfected.  Very  often  their 
turning  place  was  on  the  top  of  the  Cat's  Back,  and 
the  horses  had  a  rest  and  Mrs.  Vawse  a  visit  be- 
fore they  went  down  again.  They  had  long  walks 
too,  by  hill  and  dale  ;  pleasantly  silent  or  pleasantly 
talkative, — all  pleasant  to  Ellen  ! 

Her  only  lonely  or  sorrowful  time  was  when  John 
was  gone  to  Randolph.  It  began  early  Saturday 
morning,  and  perhaps  ended  with  Sunday  night . 
for  all  Monday  was  hope  and  expectation.  Even 
Saturday  she  had  not  much  time  to  mope  ;  that  was 
the  day  for  her  great  week's  mending.  When  John 
was  gone  and  her  morning  affairs  were  out  of 
the  way,  Ellen  brought  out  her  work-basket,  and 
established  herself  on  the  sofa  for  a  quiet  day's 
sewing,  without  the  least  fear  of  interruption.  But 
sewing  did  not  always  hinder  thinking.  And  then 
certainly  the  room  did  seem  very  empty,  and  very 
still  ;  and  the  clock,  which  she  never  heard  the  rest 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  307 

of  the  week,  kept  ticking  an  ungracious  reminder 
that  she  was  alone.  Ellen  would  sometimes  forget 
it  in  the  intense  interest  of  some  nice  little  piece  of 
repair  which  must  be  exquisitely  done  in  a  wrist- 
band or  a  glove  ;  and  then  perhaps  Margery  would 
softly  open  the  door  and  come  in. 

"  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  you're  lonesome  enough ; 
isn't  there  something  I  can  do  for  you  ?  I  can't 
rest  for  thinking  of  your  being  here  all  by  your- 
self." 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  Margery,"  said  Ellen,  smiling, 
— "  I  am  doing  very  well.  I  am  living  in  hopes  of 
Monday.  Come_  and  look  here,  Margery, — how 
will  that  do  ? — don't  you  think  I  am  learning  to 
mend?" 

"  It's  beautiful,  Miss  Ellen !  I  can't  make  out 
how  you've  learned  so  quick.  I'll  tell  Mr.  John 
some  time  who  does  these  things  for  him." 

"  No,  indeed,  Margery !  don't  you.  Please  not, 
Margery.  I  like  to  do  it  very  much  indeed,  but  I 
don't  want  he  should  know  it,  nor  Mr.  Humphreys. 
Now  you  won't,  Margery,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  I  wouldn't  do  the  least  little 
thing  as  would  be  worrisome  to  you  for  the  whole 
world.     Aren't  you  tired  sitting  here  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sometimes,  a  little,"  said  Ellen,  sighing. 
"  I  can't  help  that,  you  know." 

"  I  feel  it  even  out  there  in  the  kitchen,"  said 
Margery — "  I  feel  it  lonesome  hearing  the  house  so 
still ;  I  miss  the  want  of  Mr.  John's  step  up  and 
down  the  room.  How  fond  he  is  of  walking  so,  to 
be  sure  !  How  do  you  manage,  Miss  Ellen,  with 
him  making  his  study  here  ?  don't  you  have  to  keep 
uncommon  quiet  ? " 


308  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD, 

"  No,''  said  Ellen, — "  no  quieter  than  I  like.  1 
do  just  as  I  have  a  mind  to." 

"  I  thought,  to  be  sure,"  said  Margery,  "  he 
would  have  taken  upstairs  for  his  study,  or  the  next 
room,  one  or  t'other ;  he  used  to  be  mighty  par- 
ticular in  old  times  ;  he  didn't  like  to  have  anybody 
round  when  he  was  busy  ;  but  I  am  glad  he  is 
altered,  however  ;  it  is  better  for  you,  Miss  Ellen, 
dear,  though  I  didn't  know  how  you  was  ever  going 
to  make  out  at  first." 

Ellen  thought  for  a  minute,  when  Margery  was 
gone,  whether  it  could  be  that  John  was  putting  a 
force  upon  his  liking  for  her  sake,  bearing  her  pres- 
ence when  he  would  rather  have  been  without  it. 
But  she  thought  of  it  only  a  minute  ;  she  was  sure, 
when  she  recollected  herself,  that,  however  it  hap- 
pened, she  was  no  hindrance  to  him  in  any  kind  of 
work  ;  that  she  went  out  and  came  in,  and  as  he 
had  said,  he  saw  and  heard  her  without  any  dis- 
turbance. Besides,  he  had  said  so  ;  and  that  was 
enough. 

Saturday  evening  she  generally  contrived  to  busy 
herself  in  her  books.  But  when  Sunday  morning 
came  with  its  calmness  and  brightness  ;  when  the 
business  of  the  week  was  put  away,  and  quietness 
abroad  and  at  home  invited  to  recollection,  then 
Ellen's  thoughts  went  back  to  old  times,  and  then 
she  missed  the  calm,  sweet  face  that  had  agreed  so 
well  with  the  day.  She  missed  her  in  the  morning, 
when  the  early  sun  streamed  in  through  the  empty 
room.  She  missed  her  at  the  breakfast-table,  where 
John  was  not  to  take  her  place.  On  the  ride  to 
church,  where  Mr.  Humphreys  was  now  her  silent 
companion,  and  every  tree  in  the  road  and  every 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD}. 


309 


opening  in  the  landscape  seemed  to  call  for  Alice, 
to  see  it  with  her.  Very  much  she  missed  her 
in  church.  The  empty  seat  beside  her, — the  unused 
hymn-book  on  the  shelf, — the  want  of  her  sweet 
voice  in  the  singing, — oh,  how  it  went  to  Ellen's 
heart !  And  Mr.  Humphreys'  grave,  steadfast  look 
and  tone  kept  it  in  her  mind ;  she  saw  it  was  in 
his.  Those  Sunday  mornings  tried  Ellen.  At  first 
they  were  bitterly  sad ;  her  tears  used  to  flow 
abundantly  whenever  they  could  rmseen.  Time 
softened  this  feeling. 

While  Mr.  Humphreys  went  on  to  /lis  second 
service  in  the  village  beyond,  Ellen  stayed  at  Carra- 
carra  and  tried  to  teach  a  Sunday-school.  She  de- 
termined as  far  as  she  could  to  supply  beyond  the 
home  circle  the  loss  that  was  not  felt  only  there. 
She  was  able,  however,  to  gather  together  but  her 
own  four  children  whom  she  had  constantly  taught 
from  the  beginning,  and,  two  others.  The  rest 
were  scattered.  After  her  lunch,  which,  having  no 
companion  but  Margery,  was  now  a  short  one^ 
Ellen  went  next  to  the  two  old  women  that  Alice 
had  been  accustomed  to  attend  for  the  purpose  of 
reading,  and  what  Ellen  called  preaching.  These 
poor  old  people  had  sadly  lamented  the  loss  of  the 
faithful  friend  whose  place  they  never  expected  to 
see  supplied  in  this  world,  and  whose  kindness  had 
constantly  sweetened  their  lives  with  one  great 
pleasure  a  week.  Ellen  felt  afraid  to  take  so  much, 
upon  herself,  as  to  try  to  do  for  them  what  Alice 
had  done  ;  however  she  resolved ;  and  at  the  very 
first  attempt  their  gratitude  and  joy  far  overpaid 
her  for  the  effort  she  had  made.  Practice  and  the 
motive  she  had,  soon  enabled  Ellen  to  remember 


310  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  repeat  faithfully  the  greater  part  of  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys' morning  sermon.  Reading  the  Bible  to  Mrs. 
Blockson  was  easy ;  she  had  often  done  that ;  and 
to  repair  the  loss  of  Alice's  pleasant  comments  and 
explanations  she  bethought  her  of  her  Pilgrim's 
Progress.  To  her  delight  the  old  woman  heard  it 
greedily,  and  seemed  to  take  great  comfort  in  it ; 
often  referring  to  what  Ellen  had  read  before,  and 
begging  to  hear  such  a  piece  over  again.  Ellen 
generally  went  home  pretty  thoroughly  tired,  yet 
feeling  happy  ;  the  pleasure  of  doing  good  still  far 
overbalanced  the  pains. 

Sunday  evening  was  another  lonely  time  ;  Ellen 
;spent  it  as  best  she  could.  Sometimes  with  her 
Bible  and  prayer,  and  then  she  ceased  to  be  lonely  ; 
sometimes  with  so  many  pleasant  thoughts  that 
had  sprung  up  out  of  the  employments  of  the 
morning  that  she  could  not  be  sorrowful ;  sometimes 
she  could  not  help  being  both.  In  any  case,  she 
was  very  apt  when  the  darkness  fell  to  take  to 
singing  hymns ;  and  it  grew  to  be  a  habit  with  Mr. 
Humphreys  when  he  heard  her  to  come  out  of  his 
study  and  lie  down  upon  the  sofa  and  listen,  suffer- 
ing no  light  in  the  room  but  that  of  the  fire.  Ellen 
never  was  better  pleased  than  when  her  Sunday 
evenings  were  spent  so.  She  sung  with  wonderful 
pleasure  when  she  sung  for  him  ;  and  she  made  it 
her  business  to  fill  her  memory  with  all  the  beautiful 
:hymns  she  ever  knew  or  could  find,  or  that  he  liked 
particularly. 

With  the  first  opening  of  her  eyes  on  Monday 
morning  came  the  thought,  "  John  will  be  at  home 
4o-day !  "  That  was  enough  to  carry  Ellen  pleas- 
antly through  whatever  the  day  might  bring.     She 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  311 

generally  kept  her  mending  of  stockings  for  Monday 
morning,  because  with  that  thought  in  her  head 
she  did  not  mind  anything.  She  had  no  visits  from 
Margery  on  Monday ;  but  Ellen  sang  over  her 
work,  sprang  about  with  happy  energy,  and  studied 
her  hardest ;  for  John  in  what  he  expected  her  to 
do  made  no  calculations  for  work  of  which  he  knew 
nothing.  He  was  never  at  home  till  late  in  the 
day ;  and  when  Ellen  had  done  all  she  had  to  do> 
and  set  the  supper-table  with  punctilious  care,  and 
a  face  of  busy  happiness  it  would  have  been  a 
pleasure  to  see  if  there  had  been  any  one  to  look 
at  it,  she  would  take  what  happened  to  be  the 
favorite  book  and  plant  herself  near  the  glass  door ; 
like  a  very  epicure,  to  enjoy  both  the  present  and 
the  future  at  once.  Even  then  the  present  often 
made  her  forget  the  future  ;  she  would  be  lost  in 
her  book,  perhaps  hunting  the  elephant  in  India  01 
fighting  Nelson's  battles  over  again,  and  the  first 
news  she  would  have  of  what  she  had  set  herself 
there  to  watch  for  would  be  the  click  of  the  door- 
lock  or  a  tap  on  the  glass,  for  the  horse  was  almost 
always  left  at  the  further  door.  Back  then  she 
came,  from  India  or  the  Nile  ;  down  went  the  book  ; 
Ellen  had  no  more  thought  but  for  what  was  before 
her. 

For  the  rest  of  that  evening  the  measure  of  Ellen's 
happiness  was  full.  It  did  not  matter  whether 
John  were  in  a  talkative  or  a  thoughtful  mood ; 
whether  he  spoke  to  her  and  looked  at  her  or  not ; 
it  was  pleasure  enough  to  feel  that  he  was  there. 
She  was  perfectly  satisfied  merely  to  sit  down  near 
him,  though  she  did  not  get  a  word  by  the  hour 
together. 


312  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Ne  in  all  the  welkin  was  no  cloud. 

Chaucml 

One  Monday  evening,  John  being  tired,  was 
resting  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa.  The  silence  had 
lasted  a  long  time.  Ellen  thought  so,  and  stand- 
ing near,  she  by  and  by  put  her  hand  gently  into 
one  of  his  which  he  was  thoughtfully  passing 
through  the  locks  of  his  hair.  Her  hand  was 
clasped  immediately,  and  quitting  his  abstracted 
look  he  asked  what  she  had  been  doing  that  day  ? 
Ellen's  thoughts  went  back  to  toes  of  stockings 
and  a  long  rent  in  her  dress  ;  she  merely  answered, 
smiling,  that  she  had  been  busy. 

"  Too  busy,  I'm  afraid.  Come  round  here  and 
sit  down.     What  have  you  been  busy  about  ?  " 

Ellen  never  thought  of  trying  to  evade  a  ques- 
tion of  his.  She  colored  and  hesitated.  He  did 
not  press  it  any  further. 

"  Mr.  John,"  said  Ellen,  when  the  silence  seemed 
to  have  set  in  again, — "  there  is  something  I  have 
been  wanting  to  ask  you  this  great  while " 

"  Why  hasn't  it  been  asked  this  great  while  ?  " 

"  I  didr't  quite  like  to  ; — I  didn't  know  what  you 
would  say  to  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  am  at  all  terrible  to  you,  Ellie." 

"  Why,  you  are  not !  "  said  Ellen,  laughing, — 
"  how  you  talk !  but  I  don't  much  like  to  ask 
people  things." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  he,  smiling; — 
"  my  memory  rather  seems  to  say  that  you  ask 
things  pretty  often." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


3*3 


"  Ah,  yes, — those  things, — but  I  mean — I  don't 
like  to  ask  things  when  I  am  not  quite  sure  how 
people  will  like  it." 

"  You  are  right,  certainly,  to  hesitate  when  you 
are  doubtful  in  such  a  matter  ;  but  it  is  best  not  to 
be  doubtful  when  I  am  concerned." 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  wished  very  much — I 
was  going  to  ask — if  you  would  have  any  objection 
to  let  me  read  one  of  your  sermons." 

"  None  in  the  world,  Ellie,"  said  he,  smiling, — 
"  but  they  have  never  been  written  yet." 

"  Not  written  !  " 

"  No — there  is  all  I  had  to  guide  me  yesterday." 

"  A  half  sheet  of  paper ! — and  only  written  on 
one  side  ! — Oh,  I  can  make  nothing  of  this.  What 
is  this  ?—  Hebrew  ? " 

"  Shorthand." 

"  And  is  that  all !  I  cannot  understand  it," 
said  Ellen,  sighing,  as  she  gave  back  the  paper. 

"  What  if  you  were  to  go  with  me  next  time  ? 
They  want  to  see  you  very  much  at  Ventnor." 

"  So  do  I  want  to  see  them,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  very 
much  indeed." 

"  Mrs.  Marshman  sent  a  most  earnest  request 
by  me  that  you  would  come  to  her  the  next  time  I 
go  to  Randolph." 

Ellen  gave  the  matter  a  very  serious  considera- 
tion ;  if  one  might  judge  by  her  face. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  go — very  much,"  said  Ellen,, 
slowly, — "  but " 

"  But  you  do  not  think  it  would  be  pleasant  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Ellen,  laughing, — "  I  don't  mean 
that ;  but  I  think  I  would  rather  not." 


314  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh — I  have  some  reasons." 

"  You  must  give  me  very  good  ones,  or  I  think 
I  shall  over-rule  your  decision,  Ellie." 

"  I  have  very  good  ones, — plenty  of  them, — 
only " 

A  glance,  somewhat  comical  in  its  keenness, 
overturned  Ellen's  hesitation. 

"  I  have,  indeed,"  said  she,  laughing, — "  only  I 
did  not  want  to  tell  you.  The  reason  why  I  didn't 
wish  to  go  was  because  I  thought  I  should  be 
missed.  You  don't  know  how  much  I  miss  you," 
said  she,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  That  is  what  I  was  afraid  of  !  Your  reasons 
anake  against  you,  Ellie." 

"  I  hope  not ; — I  don't  think  they  ought." 

"  But,  Ellie,  I  am  very  sure  my  father  would 
rather  miss  you  once  or  twice  than  have  you  want 
what  would  be  good  for  you." 

"  I  know  that  !  I  am  sure  of  that  ;  but  that 
<lon't  alter  my  feeling,  you  know.  And  besides — 
that  isn't  all." 

;'  Who  else  will  miss  you  ?  " 

Ellen's  quick  look  seemed  to  say  that  he  knew 
too  much  already,  and  that  she  did  not  wish  him 
to  know  more.  He  did  not  repeat  the  question,  but 
Ellen  felt  that  her  secret  was  no  longer  entirely  her 
own. 

"  And  what  do  you  do,  Ellie,  when  you  feel 
lonely  ?  "  he  went  on  presently. 

Ellen's  eyes  watered  at  the  tone  in  which  these 
words  were  spoken  ;  she  answered,  "  Different 
things." 

"  The  best  remedy  for  it  is  prayer.     In   seeking 


THk    'A '  ZDX,  WIDE   WORLD.  315 

the  face  of  our  best  Friend  we  forget  the  loss  of 
others.  That  is  what  I  try,  Ellen,  when  I  feel 
alone, — do  you  try  it  ?  "  said  he,  softly. 

Ellen  looked  up  ;  she  could  not  well  speak  at. 
that  moment. 

"  There  is  an  antidote  in  that  for  every  trouble. 
You  know  who  said,  '  he  that  cometh  to  Me  shall 
never  hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  Me,  shall 
never  thirst.' " 

"  It  troubles  me,"  said  he,  after  a  pause, — "  to 
leave  you  so  much  alone.  I  don't  know  that  it 
were  not  best  to  take  you  with  me  every  week." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Ellen,—"  don't  think  of  me.  I 
don't  mind  it  indeed.  I  do  not  always  feel  so — 
sometimes, — but  I  get  along  very  well  •  and  I 
would  rather  stay  here,  indeed  I  would.  I  am. 
always  happy  as  soon  as  Monday  morning  comes." 

He  rose  up  suddenly  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"  Mr.  John " 

"  What,  Ellie  ?  "     . 

"  I  do  sometimes  seek  His  face  very  much  when 
I  cannot  find  it." 

She  hid  her  face  in  the  sofa-cushion.  He  was 
silent  a  few  minutes,  and  then  stopped  his  walk. 

"  There  is  something  wrong  then  with  you,  Ellie," 
he  said,  gently.  "  How  has  it  been  through  the 
week  ?  If  you  can  let  day  after  day  pass  without 
remembering  your  best  Friend,  it  may  be  that  when, 
you  feel  the  want  you  will  not  readily  find  Him.. 
How  is  it  daily.  Ellie  ?  is  seeking  His  face  your 
first  concern  ?  do  you  give  a  sufficient  time  faith* 
fully  to  your  Bible  and  prayer  ?  " 

Ellen  shook  her  head  ;  no  words  were  possible,. 


3 £6  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

He  took  up  his  walk  again.  The  silence  had 
lasted  a  length  of  time  and  he  was  still  walking, 
when  Ellen  came  to  his  side  and  laid  her  hand  on 
his  arm. 

"  Have  you  settled  that  question  with  your  con- 
science, Ellie  ?  " 

She  weepingly  answered  yes.  They  walked  a 
few  turns  up  and  down. 

"  Will  you  promise  me,  Ellie,  that  every  day 
when  it  shall  be  possible,  you  will  give  an  hour 
at  least  to  this  business  ? — whatever  else  may  be 
done  or  undone  ?  " 

Ellen  promised  ;  and  then  with  her  hand  in  his 
they  continued  their  walk  through  the  room  till 
Mr.  Humphreys  and  the  servants  came  in.  Her 
brother's  prayer  that  night  Ellen  never  forgot. 

No  more  was  said  at  that  time  about  her  going 
to  Ventnor.  But  a  week  or  two  after  John  smilingly 
told  her  to  get  all  her  private  affairs  arranged,  and 
to  let  her  friends  know  they  need  not  expect  to  see 
her  the  next  Sunday,  for  that  he  was  going  to  take 
her  with  him.  As  she  saw  he  had  made  up  his 
mind,  Ellen  said  nothing  in  the  way  of  objecting ; 
and  now  that  the  decision  was  taken  from  her  was 
really  very  glad  to  go.  She  arranged  everything, 
as  he  had  said  ;  and  was  ready  Saturday  morning 
to  set  off  with  a  very  light  heart. 

They  went  in  the  sleigh.  In  a  happy  quiet  mood 
of  mind,  Ellen  enjoyed  everything  exceedingly. 
She  had  not  been  to  Ventnor  in  several  months  ; 
the  change  of  scene  was  very  grateful.  She  could 
not  help  thinking,  as  they  slid  along  smoothly  and 
swiftly  over  the  hard-frozen  snow,  that  it  was  a 
$;ood  deal  pleasanter,  for  once,  than  sitting  alone  in 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  317 

the  parlor  at  home  with  her  work-basket.  Those 
days  of  solitary  duty,  however,  had  prepared  her 
for  the  pleasure  of  this  one;  Ellen  knew  that,  and 
was  ready  to  be  thankful  for  everything.  Through- 
out the  whole  way,  whether  the  eye  and  mind 
silently  indulged  in  roving,  or  still  better,  loved 
talk  interrupted  that,  as  it  often  did,  Ellen  was  in  a 
state  of  most  unmixed  and  unruffled  satisfaction. 
John  had  not  the  slightest  reason  to  doubt  the  cor- 
rectness of  his  judgment  in  bringing  her.  He 
went  in  but  a  moment  at  Ventnor,  and  leaving  her 
there,  proceeded  himself  to  Randolph. 

Ellen  was  received  as  a  precious  lending  that 
must  be  taken  the  greatest  care  of  and  enjoyed  as 
much  as  possible  while  one  has  it.  Mrs.  Marshman 
and  Mrs.  Chauncey  treated  her  as  if  she  had  been 
their  own  child.  Ellen  Chauncey  overwhelmed  her 
with  joyful  caresses,  and  could  scarcely  let  her  out 
of  her  arms,  by  night  or  day.  She  was  more  than 
ever  Mr.  Marshman's  pet ;  but  indeed  she  was  well 
petted  by  all  the  family.     It  was  a  very  happy  visit. 

Even  Sunday  left  nothing  to  wish  for.  To  her 
great  joy  not  only  Mrs.  Chauncey  went  with  her  in 
the  morning  to  hear  her  brother  (for  his  church 
was  not  the  one  the  family  attended),  but  the  car- 
riage was  ordered  in  the  afternoon  also ;  and  Mrs. 
Chauncey  and  her  daughter  and  Miss  Sophia  went 
with  her  again.  When  they  returned,  Miss  Sophia, 
who  had  taken  a  very  great  fancy  to  her,  brought 
her  into  her  own  room  and  made  her  lie  down  with 
her  upon  the  bed,  though  Ellen  insisted  she  was 
not  tired. 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  be,  if  you  are  not,"  said  the 
lady,  "  I  am.     Keep   away,   Ellen   Chauncey — you 


318  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

can't  be  anywhere  without  talking.  You  can  live 
without  Ellen  for  half  an  hour,  can't  ye  ?  Leave  us 
a  little  while  in  quiet." 

Ellen  for  her  part  was  quite  willing  to  be  quiet. 
But  Miss  Sophia  was  not  sleepy,  and  it  soon  ap- 
peared had  no  intention  of  being  silent  herself. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  your  brother  in  the 
pulpit  ?  "  she  began. 

"  I  like  him  anywhere,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, 
smiling  a  very  unequivocal  smile. 

"  I  thought  he  would  have  come  here  with  you 
last  night ; — it  is  very  mean  of  him !  He  never 
comes  near  us  ;  he  always  goes  to  some  wretched 
little  lodging  or  place  in  the  town  there  ; — always  ; 
never  so  much  as  looks  at  Ventnor,  unless  some- 
times he  may  stop  for  a  minute  at  the  door." 

"  He  said  he  would  come  here  to-night,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Amazingly  condescending  of  him  !  However, 
he  isn't  like  anybody  else  ;  I  suppose  we  must  not 
judge  him  by  common  rules.  How  is  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys, Ellen  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen, — "  it  is  hard 
to  tell ;  he  doesn't  say  much.  I  think  he  is  rather 
more  cheerful — if  anything — than  I  expected  he 
would  be." 

"  And  how  do  you  get  along  there,  poor  child  ! 
with  only  two  such  grave  people  about  you  ?  "' 

"  I  get  along  very  well,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  with 
what  Miss  Sophia  thought  a  somewhat  curious 
smile. 

"  I  believe  you  will  grow  to  be  as  sober  as  the 
rest  of  them,"  said  she.  How  does  Mr.  John  be- 
have ? " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  319 

Ellen  turned  so  indubitably  curious  a  look  upon 
her  at  this  that  Miss  Sophia  half  laughed  and  went 
on  : 

"  Mr.  Humphreys  was  not  always  as  silent  and 
reserved  as  he  is  now  ;  I  remember  him  when  he 
was  different ; — though  I  don't  think  he  ever  was 
much  like  his  son.     Did  you  ever  hear  about  it  ?  " 

"  About  what,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh,  all  about  his  coming  to  this  country,  and 
what  brought  him  to  Carra-carra  ?  " 

"  No,   ma'am." 

"  My  father,  you  see,  had  come  out  long  before, 
but  the  two  families  had  been  always  very  intimate 
in  England,  and  it  was  kept  up  after  he  came  away. 
He  was  a  particular  friend  of  an  elder  brother  of  Mr. 
Humphreys  ;  his  estate  and  my  grandfather's  lay 
very  near  each  other  ;  and  besides,  there  were  other 
things  that  drew  them  to  each  other  ; — he  married 
my  aunt,  for  one.  My  father  made  several  journeys 
back  and  forth  in  the  course  of  years,  and  so  kept 
up  his  attachment  to  the  whole  family,  you  know ; 
and  he  became  very  desirous  to  get  Mr.  Humphreys 
over  here, — this  Mr.  Humphreys,  you  know.  He 
was  the  younger  brother — younger  brothers  in  Eng- 
land generally  have  little  or  nothing  ;  but  you  don't 
know  anything  about  that,  Ellen.  He  hadn't  any- 
thing then  but  his  living  and  that  was  a  small  one ; 
he  had  some  property  left  him  though,  just  before 
he  came  to  America." 

"  But,  Miss  Sophia  " — Ellen  hesitated, — "  are 
you  sure  they  would  like  I  should  hear  all  this  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  child  ! — of  course  they  would  ;  every- 
body knows  it.  Some  things  made  Mr.  Humphreys 
as  willing  to  leave  England  about  that  time  as   my 


32 o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

father  was  to  have  him.  An  excellent  situation  was 
offered  him  in  one  of  the  best  institutions  here,  and 
he  came  out.  That's  about — let  me  see — I  was  just 
twelve  years  old  and  Alice  was  one  year  younger. 
She  and  I  were  just  like  sisters  always  from  that 
time.  We  lived  near  together,  and  saw  each  other 
every  day,  and  our  two  families  were  just  like  one. 
But  they  were  liked  by  everybody.  Mrs.  Hum- 
phreys was  a  very  fine  person, — very ;  oh,  very  !  I 
never  saw  any  woman  I  admired  more.  Her  death 
almost  killed  her  husband  ;  and  I  think  Alice — I 
don't  know ! — there  isn't  the  least  sign  of  delicate 
health  about  Mr.  Humphreys  nor  Mr.  John, — not 
the  slightest, — nor  about  Mrs.  Humphreys  either. 
She  was  a  very  fine  woman !  " 

"  How  long  ago  did  she  die  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Five, — six,  seven, — seven  years  ago.  Mr.  John 
had  been  left  in  England  till  a  little  before.  Mr. 
Humphreys  was  never  the  same  after  that.  He 
wouldn't  hold  his  professorship  any  longer ;  he 
couldn't  bear  society  ;  he  just  went  and  buried  him- 
self at  Carra-carra.  That  was  a  little  after  we  came 
here." 

How  much  all  this  interested  Ellen  !  She  was 
glad,  however,  when  Miss  Sophia  seemed  to  have 
talked  herself  out,  for  she  wanted  very  much  to 
think  over  John's  sermon.  And  as  Miss  Sophia 
happily  fell  into  a  doze  soon  after,  she  had  a  long 
quiet  time  for  it,  till  it  grew  dark,  and  Ellen  Chaun- 
cey,  whose  impatience  could  hold  no  longer,  came 
to  seek  her. 

John  came  in  the  evening.  Ellen's  patience  and 
politeness  were  severely  tried  in  the  course  of  it ; 
for  while  she  longed  exceedingly  to  hear  what  her 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  321 

brother  and  the  older  members  of  the  family  were 
talking  about, — animated,  delightful  conversation, 
she  was  sure, — Ellen  Chauncey  detained  her  in 
another  part  of  the  room  ;  and  for  a  good  part  of 
the  evening  she  had  to  bridle  her  impatience,  and 
attend  to  what  she  did  not  care  about.  She  did  it, 
and  Ellen  Chauncey  did  not  suspect  it ;  and  at  last 
she  found  means  to  draw  both  her  and  herself  near 
the  larger  group.  But  they  seemed  to  have  got 
through  what  they  were  talking  about ;  there  was 
a  lull.  Ellen  waited ;  and  hoped  they  would  begin 
again. 

"  You  had  a  full  church  this  afternoon,  Mr* 
John,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 

He  bowed  gravely. 

"  Did  you  know  whom  you  had  among  your  audi' 

tors  ?  the and were  there  ;  "  naming  some 

distinguished  strangers  in  the  neighborhood. 

"  I  think  I  saw  them." 

"  You  '  think,'  you  did  !  Is  that  an  excess  of 
pride  or  an  excess  of  modesty  ?  Now  do  be  a  rea- 
sonable creature,  and  confess  that  you  are  not  in- 
sensible to  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  addressing 
such  an  audience  !  " 

Ellen  saw  something  like  a  flash  of  contempt 
for  an  instant  in  his  face,  instantly  succeeded  by  a 
smile. 

"  Honestly,  Miss  Sophia,  I  was  much  more  inter- 
ested in  an  old  woman  that  sat  at  the  foot  of  the 
pulpit  stairs." 

"  That  old  thing  !  "  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  I  saw  her,"  said   Mrs.  Chauncey ; — "  poor  old 
creature  !  she  seemed  most  deeply  attentive  when 
I  looked  at  her." 
21 


322  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  /saw  her!  "  cried  Ellen  Chauncey, — "  and  the 
tears  were  running  down  her  cheeks  several  times." 

"  I  didn't  see  her,"  said  Ellen  Montgomery,  as 
John's  eye  met  hers.     He  smiled. 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  say,''  continued  Miss  So- 
phia, "  that  you  are  absolutely  careless  as  to  who 
hears  you  ? " 

"  I  have  always  one  hearer,  Miss  Sophia,  of  so 
much  dignity,  that  it  sinks  the  rest  into  great  insig- 
nificance." 

"  That  is  a  rebuke,"  said  Miss  Sophia  ; — "  but 
nevertheless  I  shall  tell  you  that  I  liked  you  very 
much  this  afternoon." 

He  was  silent. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  tell  me  next,"  said  the 
young  lady  laughing,  "  that  you  are  sorry  to  hear 
me  say  so." 

"  I  am,"  said  he  gravely. 

"  Why  ?— may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  You  show  me  that  I  have  quite  failed  in  my 
aim,  so  far  at  least  as  one  of  my  hearers  was  con- 
cerned." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
said  to  Massillon  ? — Mon  pere,  j'ai  entendu  plu- 
sieurs  grands  orateurs  dans  ma  chapelle  ;  j'an  ai  e'te 
fort  content  :  pour  vous,  toutes  les  fois  que  je  vous 
ai  entendu,  j'ai  ete'  tres  mecontent  de  moi-meme  !  " 

Ellen  smiled.  Miss  Sophia  was  silent  for  an 
instant. 

"  Then  you  really  mean  to  be  understood,  that 
provided  you  fail  of  your  aim,  as  you  say,  you  do 
not  care  a  straw  what  people  think  of  you  ?  " 

"  As  I  would  take  a  bankrupt's  promissory  note 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  323 

In  lieu  of  told  gold.  It  gives  me  small  gratification, 
Miss  Sophia, — very  small  indeed, — to  see  the  bow- 
ing heads  of  the  grain  that  yet  my  sickle  cannot 
reach." 

"  I  agree  with  you  most  heartily,"  said  Mr.  George 
Marshman.  The  conversation  dropped  ;  and  the 
two  gentlemen  began  another  in  an  undertone, 
pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  together. 

The  next  morning,  not  sorrowfully,  Ellen  entered 
the  sleigh  again  and  they  set  off  homewards. 

"What  a  sober  little  piece  that  is,"  said  Mr, 
Howard. 

"  Oh  ! — sober,"  cried  Ellen  Chauncey  ; — "  that  is 
because  you  don't  know  her,  Uncle  Howard.  She 
is  the  cheerfullest,  happiest  girl  that  I  ever  saw, — •. 
always." 

"  Except  Ellen  Chauncey, — always,"  said  her 
uncle. 

"  She  is  a  singular  child,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie. 
"  She  is  grave  certainly,  but  she  don't  looked  moped 
at  all,  and  I  should  think  she  would  be  to    death." 

"  There's  not  a  bit  of  moping  about  her,"  said 
Miss  Sophia.  "  She  can  laugh  and  smile  as  well  as 
anybody ;  though  she  has  sometimes  that  peculiar 
grave  look  of  the  eyes  that  would  make  a  stranger 
doubt  it.  I  think  John  Humphreys  has  infected 
her;  he  has  something  of  the  same  look    himself.'* 

"  I  am  not  sure  whether  it  is  the  eyes  or  the 
mouth,  Sophia,"  said  Mr.  Howard. 

"  It  is  both  !  "said  Miss  Sophia.  "  Did  you  ever 
see  the  eyes  look  one  way,  and  the  mouth  another  ?  '* 

"And  besides,"  said  Ellen  Chauncey,  "she  has 
reason  to  look  sober,  I  am  sure." 

"  She  is  a  fascinating  child,"  said    Mrs.    Gilles* 


324  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

pie.  "  I  cannot  comprehend  where  she  gets  the 
manner  she  has.  I  never  saw  a  more  perfectly 
polite  child ;  and  there  she  has  been  for  months 
with  nobody  to  speak  to  but  two  gentlemen  and  the; 
servants.  It  is  natural  to  her,  I  suppose ;  she  can 
have  nobody  to  teach  her." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  as  to  that,"  said  Miss  Sophia ; 
"  but  I  have  noticed  the  same  thing  often.  Did 
you  observe  her  last  night,  Matilda,  when  John 
Humphreys  came  in  ?  you  were  talking  to  her  at 
the  moment ; — I  saw  her,  before  the  door  was 
opened, — I  saw  the  color  come  and  her  eyes  sparkle, 
but  she  did  not  look  towards  him  for  an  instant, 
till  you  had  finished  what  you  were  saying  to  her 
and  she  had  given,  as  she  always  does,  her  modest, 
quiet  answer  ;  and  then  her  eye  went  straight  as  an 
arrow  to  where  he  was  standing." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Chauncey,  "  she  never 
moved  towards  him  when  you  did,  but  stayed 
quietly  on  that  side  of  the  room  with  the  young 
ones  till  he  came  round  to  them,  and  it  was  some 
time  too." 

"  She  is  an  odd  child,"  said  Miss  Sophia,  laugh- 
ing,— "  what  do  you  think  she  said  to  me  yesterday  ? 
I  was  talking  to  her  and  getting  rather  communi- 
cative on  the  subject  of  my  neighbors'  affairs  ;  and 
she  asked  me  gravely, — the  little  monkey  ! — if  I 
was  sure  they  would  like  her  to  hear  it  ?  I  felt 
quite  rebuked  ;  though  I  didn't  choose  to  let  her 
know  as  much." 

"  I  wish  Mr.  John  would  bring  her  every  week," 
said  Ellen  Chauncey,  sighing ;  "  it  would  be  too 
pleasant  to  have  her." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  winter  Mr.    Humphreys 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  325 

began  to  propose  that  his  son  should  visit  England 
and  Scotland  during  the  following  summer.  He 
wished  him  to  see  his  family  and  to  know  his  native 
country,  as  well  as  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  and  institutions  in  both  kingdoms.  Mr.  George 
Marshman  also  urged  upon  him  some  business  in 
which  he  thought  he  could  be  eminently  useful. 
But  Mr.  John  declined  both  propositions,  still  think- 
ing he  had  more  important  duties  at  home.  This 
only  cloud  that  rose  above  Ellen's  horizon,  scattered 
away. 

One  evening,  it  was  a  Monday,  in  the  twilight, 
John  was  as  usual  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor, 
Ellen  was  reading  in  the  window. 

"  Too  late  for  you,  Ellie." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  know — I  will  stop  in 
two  minutes."  But  in  a  quarter  of  that  time  she  had 
lost  every  thought  of  stopping,  and  knew  no  longer 
that  it  was  growing  dusk.  Somebgdy  else,  how- 
ever, had  not  forgotten  it.  The  two  minutes  were 
not  ended,  when  a  hand  came  between  her  and  the 
page  and  quietly  drew  the  book  away. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  cried  Ellen,  starting 
up.     "  I  entirely  forgot  all  about  it !  " 

He  did  not  look  displeased ;  he  was  smiling. 
He  drew  her  arm  within  his. 

"  Come  and  walk  with  me.  Have  you  had  any 
exercise  to-day  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  good  deal  to  do,  and  I  had  fixed  my- 
self so  nicely  on  the  sofa  with  my  books ;  and  it 
looked  cold  and  disagreeable  out  of  doors." 

"  Since  when  have  you  ceased  to  be  a  fixture  ?  " 


\2(\  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"What* -Oh,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,— "  ho* 
shall  I  ever  get  rid  of  that  troublesome  word  ? 
What  shall  I  say  ? — I  had  arranged  myself,  estab- 
lished myself,  so  nicely  on  the  sofa." 

"  And  did  you  think  that  a  sufficient  reason  for 
not  going  out  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ellen,  "I  did  not;  and  I  did  not 
decide  that  I  would  not  go ;  and  yet  I  let  it  keep 
me  at  home  after  all — just  as  I  did  about  reading 
a  few  rnimites  ago.  I  meant  to  stop,  but  I  forgot 
it,  and  I  should  have  gone  on  I  don't  know  how  long 
if  you  had  not  stopped  me.     I  very  often  do  so." 

He  paused  a  minute  and  then  said, 

"  You  must  not  do  so  any  more,  Ellie." 

The  tone,  in  which  there  was  a  great  deal  both 
of  love  and  decision,  wound  round  Ellen's  heart, 
and  constrained  her  to  answer  immediately, 

"  I  will  not— I  will  not." 

"  Never  parley  with  conscience  ; — it  is  a  danger- 
ous habit." 

"  But  then — it  was  only " 

"  About  trifles ;  I  grant  you  ;  but  the  habit  is  no 
trifle.  There  will  not  be  a  just  firmness  of  mind 
and  steadfastness  of  action,  where  tampering  with 
duty  is  permitted  even  in  little  things." 

"  I  will  try  not  to  do  it,"  Ellen  repeated. 

"  No,"  said  he,  smiling, — "  let  it  stand  as  at  first. 
'  Iwill?iotJ  means  something;  '  J  will  try,'  is  very 
apt  to  come  to  nothing.  '  I  will  keep  thy  precepts 
with  my  whole  heart ! ' — not  '  I  will  try.1  Your  re- 
liance is  precisely  the  same  in  either  case." 

"I  will  not,  John,"  said  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  What  were  you  poring  over  so  intently  a  while 
ago  ? " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  327 

"  It  was  an  old  magazine — Blackwood's  Maga- 
zine, I  believe,  is  the  name  of  it — I  found  two  great 
piles  of  them  in  a  closet  upstairs  the  other  day ; 
and  I  brought  this  one  down." 

"  This  is  the  first  that  you  have  read  ? " 

"  Yes — I  got  very  much  interested  in  a  curious 
story  there  ; — why  ?  " 

"  What  will  you  say,  Ellie,  if  I  ask  you  to  leave 
the  rest  of  the  two  piles  unopened  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  will  say  that  I  will  do  it,  of  course," 
said  Ellen,  with  a  little  smothered  sigh  of  regret, 
however  ; — "  if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  do  wish  it,  Ellie." 

"  Very  well — I'll  let  them  alone  then.  I  have 
enough  other  reading ;  I  don't  know  how  I  hap- 
pened to  take  that  one  up  ;  because  I  saw  it  there, 
I  suppose." 

"  Have  you  finished  Nelson  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ! — 1  finished  it  Saturday  night.  Oh,  I 
like  it  very  much  !  I  am  going  all  over  it  again, 
though.     I  like  Nelson  very  much  ;  don't  you  ? " 

"  Yes — as  well  as  I  can  like  a  man  of  very  fine 
qualities  without  principle." 

"  Was  he  that  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes  ;  did  you  not  find  it  out  ?  I  am  afraid  your 
eyes  were  blinded  by  admiration." 

"  Were  they  ?  "  said  Ellen.  "  I  thought  he  was 
so  very  fine,  in  everything  ;  and  I  should  be  sorry 
to  think  he  was  not." 

"  Look  over  the  book  again  by  all  means,  with  a 
more  critical  eye  ;  and  when  you  have  done  so  you 
shall  give  me  your  cool  estimate  of  his  character." 

"  Oh  me  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  Well,— but  I  don't 
know   whether  I  can  give    you  a  cool  estimate    of 


328  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

him; — however,  I'll  try.  I  cannot  think  coolly  o| 
him  now,  just  after  Trafalgar.  I  think  it  was  a 
shame  that  Collingwood  did  not  anchor  as  Nelson 
told  him  to ;  don't  you  ?  I  think  he  might  have 
been  obeyed  while  he  was  living,  at  least." 

"  It  is  difficult,"  said  John,  smiling,  "  to  judge 
correctly  of  many  actions  without  having  been  on 
the  spot  and  in  the  circumstances  of  the  actors.  I 
believe  you  and  I  must  leave  the  question  of  Tra- 
falgar to  more  nautical  heads." 

"  How  pleasant  this  moonlight  is  !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  What  makes  r:  pleasant  ?  " 

"  What  makes  it  pleasant  ! — I  don't  know ;  I 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  It  is  made  to  be 
pleasant, — I  can't  tell  why ;  can  anybody?" 

"  The  eye  loves  light  for  many  reasons,  but  all 
kinds  of  light  are  not  equally  agreeable.  What 
makes  the  peculiar  charm  of  these  long  streams  of 
pale  light  across  the  floor  ?  and  the  shadowy  bright- 
ness without  ?  " 

"  You  must  tell,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  cannot." 

"  You  know  we  enjoy  anything  much  more  by 
contrast ;  I  think  that  is  one  reason.  Night  is  the 
reign  of  darkness,  which  we  do  not  love ;  and  here 
is  light  struggling  with  the  darkness,  not  enough 
to  overcome  it  entirely,  but  yet  banishing  it  to 
nooks  and  corners,  and  distant  parts,  by  the  side 
of  which  it  shows  itself  in  contrasted  beauty.  Our 
eyes  bless  the  unwonted  victory." 

"Yes,"  said  Ellen, — "we  only  have  moonlight 
nights  once  in  a  while." 

"  But  that  is  only  one  reason  out  of  many,  and 
not  the  greatest.  It  is  a  very  refined  pleasure,  and 
to   resolve  it  into   its  elements   is  something   like 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  329 

trying  to  divide  one  of  these  same  white  rays  of  light 
into  the  many  various  colored  ones  that  go  to  form 
it , — and  not  by  any  means  so  easy  a  task." 

"  Then  it  was  no  wonder  I  couldn't  answer  it," 
said  Ellen. 

"  No — you  are  hardly  a  full-grown  philosopher 
yet,  Ellie." 

"  The  moonlight  is  so  calm  and  quiet,"  Ellen 
observed,  admiringly. 

"  And  why  is  it  calm  and  quiet  ? — I  must  have 
an  answer  to  that." 

"  Because  we  are  generally  calm  and  quiet  at  such 
times  ?  "  Ellen  ventured  after  a  little  thought. 

"  Precisely  ! — we  and  the  world.  And  associa- 
tion has  given  the  moon  herself  the  same  character. 
Besides  that  her  mild  sober  light  is  not  fitted  for 
the  purposes  of  active  employment,  and  therefore 
the  more  graciously  invites  us  to  the  pleasures  of 
thought  and  fancy." 

"  I  am  loving  it  more  and  more,  the  more  you 
talk  about  it,"  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  And  there  you  have  touched  another  reason, 
Ellie,  for  the  pleasure  we  have,  not  only  in  the 
moonlight,  but  in  most  other  things.  When  two 
things  have  been  in  the  mind  together,  and  made 
any  impression,  the  mind  associates  them ;  and  you 
cannot  see  or  think  of  the  one  without  bringing 
back  the  remembrance  or  the  feeling  of  the  other. 
If  we  have  enjoyed  the  moonlight  in  pleasant 
scenes,  in  happy  hours,  with  friends  that  we  loved, 
-though  the  sight  of  it  may  not  always  make  us 
directly  remember  them,  it  yet  brings  with  it  a 
waft  from  the  feeling  of  the  old  times, — sweet  as 
long  as  life  lasts  !  " 


33 O  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  And  sorrowful  things  may  be  associated  too  ?  * 
said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  and  sorrowful  things. — But  this  power  of 
association  is  the  cause  of  half  the  pleasure  we 
enjoy.  There  is  a  tune  my  mother  used  to  sing — 
I  cannot  hear  it  now  without  being  carried  swiftly 
back  to  my  boyish  days, — to  the  very  spirit  of  the 
time  ;  I  feel  myself  spring  over  the  greensward  as  I 
did  then." 

"Oh,  I  know  that  is  true,"  said  Ellen.  "The 
camellia,  the  white  camellia,  you  know, — I  like 
it  so  much  ever  since  what  you  said  about  it 
one  day.  I  never  see  it  without  thinking  of  it ; 
and  it  would  not  seem  half  so  beautiful  but  for 
that." 

"  What  did  I  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember  ?  you  said  it  was  like 
what  you  ought  to  be,  and  what  you  should  be  if 
you  ever  reached  heaven  ;  and  you  repeated  that 
verse  in  the  Revelation  about  '  those  that  have  not 
defiled  their  garments.'  I  always  think  of  it  It 
seems  to  give  me  a  lesson." 

"  How  eloquent  of  beautiful  lessons  all  nature 
would  be  to  us,"  said  John  musingly,  "  if  we  had 
but  the  eye  and  the  ear  to  take  them  in." 

"  And  in  that  way  you  would  heap  associations 
upon  associations." 

"  Yes  ;  till  our  storehouse  of  pleasure  was  very 
full." 

"  You  do  that  now,"  said  Ellen.  "  I  wish  you 
would  teach  me." 

"  I  have  read  precious  things  sometimes  in  the 
bunches  of  flowers  you  are  so  fond  of,  Ellie.  Can 
not  you  ?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  331 

"  I  don't  know — I  only  think  of  themselves  ; 
except — sometimes,  they  make  me  think  of  Alice." 

"  You  know  from  any  works  we  may  form  some 
judgment  of  the  mind  and  character  of  their 
author.'7 

';  From  their  writings  I  know  you  can,"  said 
Ellen  ; — "  from  what  other  works  ?  " 

"  From  any  which  are  not  mechanical ;  from  any 
in  which  the  mind,  not  the  hand,  has  been  the 
creating  power.  I  saw  you  very  much  interested 
the  other  day  in  the  Eddystone  lighthouse ;  did  it 
help  you  to  form  no  opinion  of  Mr.  Smeaton  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  certainly,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  admired 
him  exceedingly  for  his  cleverness  and  perse- 
verance ;  but  what  other  works  ? — I  can't  think  of 
any." 

"There  is  the  lighthouse, — that  is  one  thing. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  ocean  waves  that  now 
and  then  overwhelm  it  ? " 

Ellen  half  shuddered.  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  go  to 
sea,  John  !  But  you  were  speaking  of  men's  works 
and  women's  works  ? " 

"  Well,  women's  works, — I  cannot  help  forming 
some  notion  of  a  lady's  mind  and  character  from 
the  way  she  dresses  herself." 

"  Can  you  !  do  you  !  " 

"  I  cannot  help  doing  it.  Many  things  appear  in 
the  style  of  a  lady's  dress  that  she  never  dreams 
of  ; — the  style  of  her  thoughts  among  others." 

"It  is  a  pity  ladies  didn't  know  that,"  said 
Ellen,  laughing  ; — '  they  would  be  very  careful." 

"  It  wouldn't  mend  the  matter,  Ellie.  That  is 
one  of  the  things  in  which  people  are  obliged  to 
speak  truth.     A.s  the  mind  is,  so  it  will  show  itself." 


332  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  But  we  have  got  a  great  way  from  the  flowers,* 
said  Ellen. 

"  You  shall  bring  me  some  to-morrow,  Ellie,  and 
we  will  read  them  together." 

"  There  are  plenty  over  there  now,"  said  Ellen, 
looking  towards  the  little  flower-stand,  which  was 
as  full  and  as  flourishing  as  ever, — "  but  we 
couldn't  see  them  well  by  this  light." 

"  A  bunch  of  flowers  seems  to  bring  me  very 
near  the  Hand  that  made  them.  They  are  the 
work  of  His  fingers  ;  and  I  cannot  consider  them 
without  being  joyfully  assured  of  the  glory  and 
loveliness  of  their  Creator.  It  is  written  as  plainly 
to  me  in  their  delicate  painting  and  sweet  breath 
and  curious  structure,  as  in  the  very  pages  of  the 
Bible ;  though  no  doubt  without  the  Bible  I  could 
not  read  the  flowers." 

"  I  never  thought  much  of  that,"  said  Ellen. 
"  And  then  you  find  particular  lessons  in  particular 
flowers  ? " 

"  Sometimes." 

"  Oh,  come  here ! "  said  Ellen,  pulling  him 
towards  the  flower-stand, — "  and  tell  me  what  this 
daphne  is  like — you  need  not  see  that,  only  smell 
it,  that's  enough  ; — do,  John,  and  tell  me  what  it  is 
like  ! " 

He  smiled  as  he  complied  with  her  request,  and 
walked  away  again. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  know  you 
have  thought  of  something." 

"  It  is  like  the  fragrance  that  Christian  society 
sometimes  leaves  upon  the  spirit ;  when  it  is  just 
what  it  ought  to  be." 

"  My  Mr.  Marshman  ! "  exclaimed  Ellen: 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  333 

John  smiled  again.  "  I  thought  of  him,  Ellie. 
And  I  thought  also  of  Cowper's  lines  : — 

"  '  When  one  who  holds  communion  with  the  skies, 
Has  filled  his  urn  where  those  pure  waters  rise, 
Descends  and  dwells  among  us  meaner  things, — 
It  is  as  if  an  angel  shook  his  wings !  '  " 

Ellen  was  silent  a  minute  from  pleasure. 

"  Well,  I  have  got  an  association  now  with  the 
daphne  !  "  she  said,  joyously  ;  and  presently  added, 
sighing, — "  How  much  you  see  in  everything,  that  I 
do  not  see  at  all." 

"  Time,  Ellie,"  said  John  : — "  there  must  be  time, 
for  that.  It  will  come.  Time  is  cried  out  upon 
as  a  great  thief ;  it  is  people's  own  fault.  Use  him 
but  well ;  and  you  will  get  from  his  hand  more 
than  he  will  ever  take  from  you." 

Ellen's  thoughts  traveled  on  a  little  way  from 
this  speech, — and  then  came  a  sigh,  of  some 
burden,  as  it  seemed ;  and  her  face  was  softly  laid 
against  the  arm  she  held. 

"  Let  us  leave  all  that  to  God,"  said  John, 
gently. 

Ellen  started.  "  How  did  you  know — how  could 
you  know  what  I  was  thinking  of  ? " 

"  Perhaps  my  thoughts  took  the  same  road," 
said  he,  smiling.  "  But,  Ellie,  dear,  let  us  look  to 
that  one  source  of  happiness  that  can  never  be 
dr.ed  up ;  it  is  not  safe  to  count  upon  anything 
else." 

"  It  is  not  wonderful,"  said  Ellen,  in  a  tremulous 
voice,—"  if  I " 

"  It  is  not  wonderful,  Ellie,  nor  wrong.  But  we, 
who  look  up  to  God  as  our  Father, — who  rejoice  in 
Christ  our  Saviour, — we  are  happy,  whatever  be* 


334  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

side  we  may  gain  or  lose.  Let  us  trust  Him,  and 
never  doubt  that,  Ellie." 

"  But  still "  said  Ellen. 

"  But  still,  we  will  hope  and  pray  alike  in  that 
matter.  And  while  we  do,  and  may,  with  our  whole 
hearts,  let  us  leave  ourselves  in  our  Father's  hand. 
The  joy  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ !  the  joy  the 
world  cannot  intermeddle  with,  the  peace  it  cannot 
take  away  ! — Let  us  make  that  our  own,  Ellie  ;  and 
for  the  rest,  put  away  all  anxious  care  about  what 
we  cannot  control." 

Ellen's  hand,  however,  did  not  just  then  lie  quite 
so  lightly  on  his  arm  as  it  did  a  few  minutes  ago  ; 
he  could  feel  that ;  and  could  see  the  glitter  of  one 
or  two  tears  in  the  moonlight  as  they  fell.  The 
hand  was  fondly  taken  in  his  ;  and  as  they  slowly 
paced  up  and  down,  he  went  on  in  low  tones  of 
kindness  and  cheerfulness  with  his  pleasant  talk, 
till  she  was  too  happy  in  the  present  to  be  anxious 
about  the  future  ;  looked  up  again  brightly  into 
his  face,  and  questions  and  answers  came  as  gayly 
as  ever. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Who  knows  what  may  happen  ?    Patience  and  shuffle   the   cards  .... 
Perhaps,  after  all,  I  shall  some  day  go  to  Rome,  and  come  back  St.  Peter. 

Longfellow.* 

The  rest  of  the  winter,  or  rather  the  early  part 
of  the  spring,  passed  happily  away.  March,  at 
Thirlwall,  seemed  more  to  belong  to  the  former 
than  the  latter.  Then  spring  came  in  good  earnest ; 
April  and  May  brought  warm  days  and  wild  flowers. 
Ellen  refreshed  herself  and  adorned  the  room 
with  quantities  of  them ;  and  as   soon   as   might 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  335 

be  she  set  about  restoring  the  winter-ruined 
garden.  Mr.  John  was  not  fond  of  gardening ;  he 
provided  her  with  all  manner  of  tools,  ordered 
whatever  work  she  wanted  to  be  done  for  her, 
supplied  her*  with  new  plants,  and  seeds,  and  roots, 
and  was  always  ready  to  give  her  his  help  in  any 
operations  or  press  of  business  that  called  for 
it.  But  for  the  most  part  Ellen  hoed,  and  raked, 
and  transplanted,  and  sowed  seeds,  while  he 
walked  or  read  ;  often  giving  his  counsel,  indeed, 
asked  and  unasked,  and  always  coming  in  between 
her  and  any  difficult  or  heavy  job.  The  hours 
tfius  spent  were  to  Ellen  hours  of  unmixed  delight. 
When  he  did  not  choose  to  go  himself  he  sent 
Thomas  with  her,  as  the  garden  was  some  little 
distance  down  the  mountain,  away  from  the  house 
and  from  everybody ;  he  never  allowed  her  to  go 
there  alone. 

As  if  to  verify  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  remark,  that 
"  something  is  always  happening  most  years," 
about  the  middle  of  May  there  came  letters  that 
after  all  determined  John's  going  abroad.  The 
sudden  death  of  two  relatives,  one  after  t:  e  other, 
had  left  the  family  estate  to  Mr.  Humphreys  ;  it 
required  the  personal  attendance  either  of  himself 
or  his  son ;  he  could  not,  therefore  his  son  must, 
go.  Once  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  Mr. 
John  thought  it  best  his  going  should  fulfill  all  the 
ends  for  which  both  Mr.  Humphreys  and  Mr. 
Marshman  had  desired  it ;  this  would  occasion  his 
stay  to  be  prolonged  to  at  least  a  year,  probably 
more.     And  he  must  set  off  without  delay. 

In  the  midst,  not  of  his  hurry,  for  Mr.  John 
seldom  was  or  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry  about  any- 


336  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

thing ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  business,  he  took 
special  care  of  everything  that  concerned  or  could 
possibly  concern  Ellen.  He  arranged  what  books 
she  should  read,  what  studies  she  should  carry  on  , 
and  directed  that  about  these  matters  as  well  as 
about  all  others  she  should  keep  up  a  constant 
communication  with  him  by  letter.  He  requested 
Mrs.  Chauncey  to  see  that  she  wanted  nothing, 
and  to  act  as  her  general  guardian  in  all  minor 
things,  respecting  which  Mr.  Humphreys  could  be 
expected  to  take  no  thought  whatever.  And  what 
Ellen  thanked  him  for  most  of  all,  he  found  time 
for  all  his  wonted  rides,  and  she  thought  more  than 
his  wonted  talks  with  her ;  endeavoring,  as  he  well 
knew  how,  both  to  strengthen  and  cheer  her  mind 
in  view  of  his  long  absence.  The  memory  of  those 
hours  never  went  from  her. 

The  family  at  Ventnor  were  exceeding  desirous 
that  she  should  make  one  of  them,  during  all  the 
time  John  should  be  gone  ;  they  urged  it  with 
every  possible  argument.  Ellen  said  little,  but  he 
knew  she  did  not  wish  it ;  and  finally  compounded 
the  matter  by  arranging  that  she  should  stay  at  the 
parsonage  through  the  summer,  and  spend  the 
winter  at  Ventnor,  sharing  all  Ellen  Chauncey's 
advantages  of  every  kind.  Ellen  was  all  the  more 
pleased  with  this  arrangement  that  Mr.  George 
Marshman  would  be  at  home.  The  church  John 
had  been  serving  were  become  exceedingly  attached 
to  him,  and  would  by  no  means  hear  of  giving  him 
up  ;  and  Mr.  George  had  engaged,  if  possible,  to 
supply  his  place  while  he  should  be  away.  Ellen 
Chauncey  was  in  ecstasies.  And  it  was  further 
promised  that  the  summer  should  not  pass  without 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  337 

as  many  visits  on  both  sides  as  could  well  be 
brought  about. 

Ellen  had  the  comfort,  at  the  last,  of  hearing 
John  say  that  she  had  behaved  unexceptionably 
well  where  he  knew  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  be- 
have well  at  all.  That  was  a  comfort,  from  him, 
whose  notions  of  unexceptional  behavior,  she  knew, 
were  remarkably  high.  But  the  parting,  after  all, 
was  a  dreadfully  hard  matter ;  though  softened  as 
much  as  it  could  be  at  the  time,  and  rendered  very 
sweet  to  Ellen's  memory,  by  the  tenderness,  gentle- 
ness, and  kindness,  with  which  her  brother  without 
checking  soothed  her  grief.  He  was  to  go  early  in 
the  morning ;  and  he  made  Ellen  take  leave  of  him 
the  night  before ;  but  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  send 
her  away ;  and  when  at  length  he  told  her  it  was 
very  late,  and  she  rose  up  to  go,  he  went  with  her 
to  the  very  door  of  her  room  and  there  bade  her 
good-night. 

How  the  next  days  passed  Ellen  hardly  knew ; 
they  were  unspeakably  long. 

Not  a  week  after,  one  morning  Nancy  Vawse 
came  into  the  kitchen,  and  asked  in  her  blunt 
fashion, 

"Is  Ellen  Montgomery  at  home  ?" 

"  I  believe  Miss  Ellen  is  in  the  parlor,"  said 
Margery,  dryly. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  her." 

Margery  silently  went  across  the  hall  to  the  sit- 
ting-room. 

"  Miss  Ellen,  dear,"  she  said,  softly,  "  here  is 
that  Nancy  girl  wanting  to  speak  with  you, — will 
you  please  to  see  her  ?  " 

Ellen  eagerly  desired  Margery  to  let  her  in,  by 
22 


33  J  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

no  means  displeased  to  have  some  interruption  ta 
the  sorrowful  thoughts  she  could  not  banish.  She 
received  Nancy  very  kindly. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  Ellen  !  "  said  that  young  lady, 
whose  wandering  eye  was  upon  everything  but  Ellen 
herself, — "  ain't  you  as  fine  as  a  fiddle  ?  I  guess 
you  never  touch  your  fingers  to  a  file  nowadays, — 
do  you  ? " 

"  A  file  !  "  said  Ellen. 

"  You  ha'n't  forgot  what  it  means,  I  s'pose,"  said 
Nancy,  somewhat  scornfully, — "  'cause  if  you  think 
I'm  a  going  to  swallow  that,  you're  mistaken.  I've 
seen  you  file  off  tables  down  yonder  a  few  times, 
ha'n't  I  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  remember  now,"  said  Ellen,  smiling; — ■ 
"  it  is  so  long  since  I  heard  the  word  that  I  didn't 
know  what  you  meant.  Margery  calls  it  a  dishcloth, 
or  a  floorcloth,  or  something  else." 

"  Well,  you  don't  touch  one  nowadays,  do  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ellen.  "I  have  other  things  to 
do." 

"Well,  I  guess  you  have.  You've  got  enough  of 
books  now,  for  once,  ha'n't  you  ?  What  a  lot ! — I 
say,  Ellen,  have  you  got  to  read  all  these  ?  *,'• 

"  I  hope  so,  in  time,"  said  Ellen,  smiling.  "  Why 
haven't  you  been  to  see  me  before  ?  " 

"  Oh — I  don't  know !  " — said  Nancy,  whose  rov- 
ing eye  looked  a  little  as  if  she  felt  herself  out  of 
her  sphere.  "  I  didn't  know  as  you  would  care  to 
see  me  now." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  should  think  so,  Nancy ; 
I  would  be  as  glad  to  see  you  as  ever.  I  have  not 
forgotten  all  your  old  kindness  to  me  when  Aunt 
Fortune  was  sick." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  339 

"You've  forgotten  all  that  went  before  that,  I 
s'pose,"  said  Nancy  with  a  half  laugh.  "  You  beat 
all  !  Most  folks  remember  and  forget  just  t'other 
way  exactly.  But  besides,  I  didn't  know  but  I 
should  catch  myself  in  queer  company." 

"  Well — I  am  all  alone  now,"  said  Ellen,  with  a 
sigh. 

"Yes,  if  you  warn't  I  wouldn't  be  here,  I  can  tell 
you.  What  do  you  think  I  have  come  for  to-day, 
Ellen  ?  " 

"  For  anything  but  to  see  me  ?  " 

Nancy  nodded  very  decisively. 

"What?" 

"  Guess." 

"  How  can  I  possibly  guess  ?  What  have  you 
got  tucked  up  in  your  apron  there  ? " 

"  Ah  ! — that's  the  very  thing,"  said  Nancy. 
"  What  have  I  got,  sure  enough  ?  " 

"Well,  I  can't  tell  through  your  apron,"  said 
Ellen,  smiling. 

"  And  /can't  tell  either; — that's  more,  ain't  it  ? 
Now  listen,  and  I'll  tell  you  where  I  got  it,  and  then 
you  may  find  out  what  it  is,  for  I  don't  know. 
Promise  you  won't  tell  anybody." 

"  I  don't  like  to  promise  that,  Nancy." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  it  might  be  something  I  ought  to  tell 
somebody  about." 

"  But  it  ain't." 

"  If  it  isn't  I  won't  tell.    Can't  you  leave  it  so  ?  " 

"  But  what  a  plague  !  Here  I  have  gone  and 
done  all  this  just  for  you,  and  now  you  must  go  and 
make  a  fuss.  What  hurt  would  it  do  you  to  prom- 
ise ? — it's  nobody's  business  but  yours  and  mine, 


34-0  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

and  somebody  else's  that  won't  make  any  talk  about 
it,  I  promise  you." 

"  I  won't  speak  of  it  certainly,  Nancy,  unless  I 
think  I  ought ;  can't  you  trust  me  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  give  two  straws  for  anybody  else's 
say  so,"  said  Nancy ; — "  but  as  you're  as  stiff  as 
the  mischief  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  let  it  go.  I'll  trust 
you !  Now  listen.  It  don't  look  like  anything,  does 
it?" 

"Why,  no,"  said  Ellen,  laughing  ;  "you  hold  your 
apron  so  loose  that  I  cannot  see  anything." 

"  Well,  now  listen.  You  know  I've  been  helping 
down  at  your  aunt's, — did  you  ? " 

"No." 

"  Well,  I  have, — these  six  weeks.  You  never  see 
anything  go  on  quieter  than  they  do,  Ellen.  I  de- 
clare it's  fun.  Miss  Fortune  never  was  so  good  in 
her  days.  I  don't  mean  she  ain't  as  ugly  as  ever, 
you  know,  but  she  has  to  keep  it  in.  All  I  have  to 
do  if  I  think  anything  is  going  wrong,  I  just  let  her 
i  think  I  am  going  to  speak  to  him  about  it ; — only  I 
have  to  do  it  very  cunning,  for  fear  she  would  guess 
what  I  am  up  to  ;  and  the  next  thing  I  know  it's 
all  straight.  He  is  about  the  coolest  shaver,"  said 
Nancy,  "  I  ever  did  see.  The  way  he  walks  through 
her  notions  once  in  a  while — not  very  often,  mind 
you,  but  when  he  takes  a  fancy, — it's  fun  to  see  ! 
Oh,  I  can  get  along  there  first-rate  now.  You'd 
have  a  royal  time,  Ellen." 

"  Well,  Nancy — your  story  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  be  in  a  hurry  !^I  am  going  to  take 
my  time.  Well,  I've  been  there  this  six  weeks  ;  do- 
ing all  sorts  of  things,  you  know  ;  taking  your  place^ 
Ellen  ;  don't  you  wish  you  was  back  in  it  ? — Well,  a 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  341 

couple  of  weeks  since,  Mrs.  Van  took  it  into  her 
head  she  would  have  up  the  wagon  and  go  to  Thirl- 
wall  to  get  herself  some  things ;  a  queer  start  for 
her ;  but  at  any  rate  Van  Brunt  brought  up  the 
wagon  and  in  she  got  and  off  they  went.  Now 
she  meant,  you  must  know,  that  I  should  be  fast  in 
the  cellar-kitchen  all  the  while  she  was  gone,  and 
she  thought  she  had  give  me  enough  to  keep  me 
busy  there ;  but  I  was  up  to  her !  I  was  as  spry 
as  a  cricket,  and  flew  round,  and  got  things  put 
up ;  and  then  I  thought  I'd  have  some  fun.  What 
do  you  think  I  did  ? — Mrs.  Montgomery  was  quietly 
sitting  in  the  chimney-corner  and  I  had  the  whole 
house  to  myself.  How  Van  Brunt  looks  out  for 
her,  Ellen  ;  he  won't  let  her  be  put  out  for  anything 
or  anybody." 

**  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Ellen,  her  face  flushing 
and  her  eyes  watering  ;  "  it  is  just  like  him.  I 
love  him  for  it." 

"  The  other  night  she  was  mourning  and  lament- 
ing at  a  great  rate  because  she  hadn't  you  to  read 
to  her ;  and  what  do  you  think  he  does  but  goes 
and  takes  the  book  and  sits  down  and  reads  to  her 
himself.    You  should  have  seen  Mrs.  V-n's  face  !  " 

"  What  book  ?  "  said  Ellen. 

"  What  book  ?  why,  your  book, — the  Bible, — 
there  ain't  any  other  book  in  the  house,  as  I  know. 
What  on  earth  are  you  crying  for,  Ellen? — He's 
fetched  over  his  mother's  old  Bible,  and  there  it  lays 
on  a  shelf  in  the  cupboard ;  and  he  has  it  out  every 
once  in  a  while.  Maybe  he's  coming  round,  Ellen. 
But  do  hold  up  your  head  and  listen  to  me  !  I 
can't  talk  to  you  when  you  lie  with  your  head  in 
the  cushion  like  that.  I  ha'n't  more  than  begun 
my  story  yet." 


342  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD, 

"  Well,  go  on,"  said  Ellen. 

"  You  see,  I  ain't  in  any  hurry,"  said  Nancy,— 
"  because  as  soon  as  I've  finished  I  shall  have  to 
be  off ;  and  it's  fun  to  talk  to  you.  What  do  you 
think  I  did,  when  I  had  done  up  all  my  chores  ? — • 
where  do  you  think  I  found  this,  eh  ?  you'd  never 
guess." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  said  Ellen. 

"  No  matter  what  it  is ; — I  don't  know — where 
do  you  think  I  found  it  ?  " 

''  How  can  I  teli  ?     I  don't  know." 

"  You'll  be  angry  with  me  when  I  tell  you." 

Ellen  was  silent. 

"  If  it  was  anybody  else,"  said  Nancy, — "  I'd 
ha'  seen  'em  shot  afore  I'd  ha'  done  it,  or  told  of  it 
either ;  but  you  ain't  like  anybody  else.  Look 
here  !  "  said  she,  tapping  her  apron  gently  with  one 
finger  and  slowly  marking  off  each  word, — "  this — ■ 
came  out  of — your — aunt's — box — in — the  closet 
— upstairs — in — her  room." 

"  Nancy  !  " 

"  Ay,  Nancy  !  there  it  is.  Now  you  look  ! 
'Twon't  alter  it,  Ellen ;  that's  where  it  was,  if  you 
look  till  tea-time." 

"  But  how  came  you  there  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  wanted  to  amuse  myself,  I  tell  you. 
Partly  to  please  myself,  and  partly  because  Mrs. 
Van  would  be  so  mad  if  she  knew  it." 

"  Oh,  Nancy  !  " 

"  Well — I  don't  say  it  was  right, — but  anyhow  I 
did  it !     You  ha'n't  heard  what  I  found  yet." 

"  You  had  better  put  it  right  back  again,  Nancy, 
the  first  time  you  have  a  chance." 

"  Put  it  back  again  ! — I'll  give  it  to  you,  and  then 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  343 

you  may  put  it  back  again,  if  you  have  a  mind.  J 
should  like  to  see  you !  Why,  you  don't  knov 
what  I  found." 

"Well,  what  did  you  find  ?  " 

"  The  box  was  chuck  full  of  all  sorts  of  things, 
and  I  had  a  mind  to  see  what  was  in  it,  so  I  pulled 
'em  out  one  after  the  other  till  I  got  to  the  bottom. 
At  the  very  bottom  was  some  letters  and  papers, 
and  there, — staring  right  in  my  face, — the  first 
thing  I  see  was,  '  Miss  Ellen  Montgomery.' " 

"  Oh,  Nancy  !  "  screamed  Ellen, — "  a  letter  for 
ine  ?  " 

"  Hush  ! — and  sit  down,  will  you  ? — yes,  a  whole 
package  of  letters  for  you.  Well,  thought  I,  Mrs. 
Van  has  no  right  to  that  anyhow,  and  she  ain't  a  go- 
ing to  take  the  care  of  it  any  more  ;  so  I  just  took 
it  up  and  put  it  in  the  bosom  of  my  frock  while  I 
looked  to  see  if  there  was  any  more  for  you,  but 
there  warn't.     There  it  is  !  " 

And  she  tossed  the  package  into  Ellen's  lap. 
Ellen's  head  swam. 

"  Well,  good-bye  !  "  said  Nancy,  rising  ; — "  I 
may  go  now,  I  suppose,  and  no  thanks  to  me." 

"  Yes,  I  do — T  do  thank  you  very  much,  Nancy," 
cried  Ellen,  starting  up  and  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
—".I  do  thank  you, — though  it  wasn't  right ; — but 
oh,  how  could  she  !  how  could  she  !  " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Nancy  ;  "  to  ask  that  of  Mrs. 
Van  !  she  could  do  anything.  Why  she  did  it,  ain't 
so  easy  to  tell." 

Ellen,  bewildered,  scarcely  knew,  only  felt,  that 
Nancy  had  gone.  The  outer  cover  of  her  package, 
the  seal  of  which  was  broken,  contained  fhree 
letters ;    two   addressed   to   Ellen,  in    her  father's 


344  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

hand,  the  third  to  another  person.  The  seals  oi 
these  had  not  been  broken.  The  first  that  Ellen 
opened  she  saw  was  all  in  the  same  hand  with  the 
direction  ;  she  threw  it  down  and  eagerly  tried  the 
other.  And  yes  !  there  was  indeed  the  beloved 
character  of  which  she  never  thought  to  have  seen 
another  specimen.  Ellen's  heart  swelled  with 
many  feelings  ;  thankfulness,  tenderness,  joy,  and 
sorrow,  past  and  present ; — that  letter  was  not 
thrown  down,  but  grasped,  while  tears  fell  much 
too  fast  for  eyes  to  do  their  work.  It  was  long 
before  she  could  get  far  in  the  letter.  But  when 
she  had  fairly  begun  it  she  went  on  swiftly,  and 
almost  breathlessly,  to  the  end. 

"  My  dear,  dear  little  Ellen, 

"  I  am  scarcely  able — but  I  must  write  to  you 
once  more.  Once  more,  daughter,  for  it  is  not  per- 
mitted me  to  see  your  face  again  in  this  world.  I 
look  to  see  it,  my  dear  child,  where  it  will  be  fairer 
than  ever  here  it  seemed,  even  to  me.  I  shall  die 
in  this  hope  and  expectation.  Ellen,  remember  it. 
Your  last  letters  have  greatly  encouraged  and 
rejoiced  me.  I  am  comforted,  and  can  leave  you 
quietly  ih  that  hand  that  has  led  me  and  I  believe 
is  leading  you.     God  bless  you,  my  child  ! 

"  Ellen,  I  have  a  mother  living,  and  she  wishes 
to  receive  you  as  her  own  when  I  am  gone.  It  is 
best  you  should  know  at  once  why  I  never  spoke 
to  you  of  her.  After  your  Aunt  Bessy  married  and 
went  to  New  York,  it  displeased  and  grieved  my 
mother  greatly  that  I  too,  who  had  always  been 
her  favorite  child,  should  leave  her  for  an  American 
home.     And  when   I  persisted,  in  spite  of  all  thai 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  345 

entreaties  and  authority  could  urge,  she  said  she 
forgave  me  for  destroying  all  her  prospects  of  hap- 
piness, but  that  after  I  should  be  married  and  gone 
she  should  consider  me  as  lost  to  her  entirely,  and 
so  I  must  consider  myself.  She  never  wrote  to  me, 
and  I  never  wrote  to  her  after  I  reached  America. 
She  was  dead  to  me.  I  do  not  say  that  I  did  not 
deserve  it. 

"  But  I  have  written  to  her  lately  and  she  has 
written  to  me.  She  permits  me  to  die  in  the  joy 
of  being  entirely  forgiven,  and  in  the  further  joy 
of  knowing  that  the  only  source  of  care  I  had  left 
is  done  away.  She  will  take  you  to  her  heart,  to- 
the  place  I  once  filled,  and  I  believe  fill  yet.  She 
longs  to  have  you,  and  to  have  you  as  entirely  her 
own,  in  all  respects  ;  and  to  this,  in  consideration 
of  the  wandering  life  your  father  leads,  and  will- 
lead, — I  am  willing  and  he  is  willing  to  agree.  It 
is  arranged  so.  The  old  happy  home  of  my  child- 
hood will  be  yours,  my  Ellen.  It  joys  me  to  think 
of  it.  Your  father  will  write  to  your  aunt  and  to 
you  on  the  subject,  and  furnish  you  with  funds.  It 
is  our  desire  that  you  should  take  advantage  of  the 
vely  first  opportunity  of  proper  persons  going  to 
Scotland  who  will  be  willing  to  take  charge  of  you. 
Your  dear  friends,  Mr.  and  Miss  Humphreys,  will, 
I  dare  say,  help  you  in  this. 

"  To  them  I  could  say  much,  if  I  had  strength. 
But  words  are  little.  If  blessings  and  prayers  from, 
a  full  heart  are  worth  anything,  they  are  the  richer. 
My  love  and  gratitude  to  them  cannot " 

The  writer  had  failed  here  ;  and  what  there  was 
of  the  letter  had  evidently  been  written  at  different 


340  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

times.  Captain  Montgomery's  was  to  the  same  pur- 
pose. He  directed  Ellen  to  embrace  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  suitable  guardians,  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
and  repair  to  No.  —  George  Street,  Edinburgh ;  said 
that  Miss  Fortune  would  give  her  the  money  she 
would  need,  which  he  had  written  to  her  to  do,  and 
that  the  accompanying  letter  Ellen  was  to  carry  with 
her  and  deliver  to  Mrs.  Lindsay,  her  grandmother. 

Ellen  felt  as  if  her  head  would  split.  She  took 
up  that  letter,  gazed  at  the  strange  name  and  direc- 
tion which  had  taken  such  new  and  startling  interest 
for  her,  wondered  over  the  thought  of  what  she 
was  ordered  to  do  with  it,  marveled  what  sort  of 
fingers  they  were  which  would  open  it,  or  whether 
it  would  ever  be  opened  ; — and  finally,  in  a  perfect 
maze,  unable  to  read,  think,  or  even  weep,  she 
carried  her  package  of  letters  into  her  own  room, 
the  room  that  had  been  Alice's,  laid  herself  on  the 
bed,  and  them  beside  her :  and  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

She  woke  up  towards  evening  with  the  pressure 
of  a  mountain  weight  upon  her  mind.  Her  thoughts 
and  feelings  were  a  maze  still ;  and  not  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys himself  could  be  more  grave  and  abstracted 
than  poor  Ellen  was  that  night.  So  many  points 
were  to  be  settled, — so  many  questions  answered 
to  herself, — it  was  a  good  while  before  Ellen  could 
disentangle  them,  and  know  what  she  did  think 
and  feel,  and  what  she  would  do. 

She  very  soon  found  out  her  own  mind  upon  one 
subject, — she  would  be  exceeding  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  obey  the  directions  in  the  letters.  But 
must  she  obey  them  ? 

"  I  have  promised   Alice,"   thought  Ellen  ; — "  I 


TBE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  347 

have  promised  Mr.  Humphreys — I  can't  be  adopted 
twice.  And  this  Mrs.  Lindsay, — my  grandmother  ! 
— she  cannot  be  nice  or  she  wouldn't  have  treated 
my  mother  so.  She  cannot  be  a  nice  person  ; — 
hard, — she  must  be  hard  ; — I  never  want  to  see 
her.  My  mother  ! — But  then  my  mother  loved 
her,  and  was  very  glad  to  have  me  go  to  her.  Oh  ! 
— oh  !  how  could  she  ! — how  could  they  do  so  ! — 
when  they  didn't  know  how  it  might  be  with  me, 
and  what  dear  friends  they  might  make  me  leave  ! 
Oh,  it  was  cruel ! — But  then  they  did  not  know, 
that  is  the  very  thing — they  thought  I  would  have 
nobody  but  Aunt  Fortune,  and  so  it's  no  wonder. — 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do  !  What  ought  I  to  do  ?  These 
people  in  Scotland  must  have  given  me  up  by  this 
time  ;  it's — let  me  see — it's  just  about  three  years 
now, — a  little  less, — since  these  letters  were  written. 
I  am  older  now,  and  circumstances  are  changed ;  I 
have  a  home  and  a  father  and  a  brother ;  may  I 
not  judge  for  myself  ? — But  my  mother  and  my 
father  have  ordered  me, — what  shall  I  do  !  If  John 
were  only  here — but  perhaps  he  would  make  me  go, 
— he  might  think  it  right.  And  to  leave  him, — and 
maybe  never  see  him  again  ! — and  Mr. Humphreys  ! 
and  how  lonely  he  would  be  without  me, — I  cannot ! 
I  will  not !  Oh,  what  shall  I  do !  What  shall  I 
do!" 

Ellen's  meditations  gradually  plunged  her  in  de- 
spair ;  for  she  could  not  look  at  the  event  of  being 
obliged  to  go,  and  she  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
feeling  that  perhaps  it  might  come  to  that.  She 
wept  bitterly ;  it  didn't  mend  the  matter.  She 
thought  painfully,  fearfully,  long ;  and  was  no 
nearer  an  end.     She    could  not   endure  to   submit 


348  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

the  matter  to  .Mr.  Humphreys ;  she  feared  his 
decision  •  and  she  feared  also  that  he  would  give 
her  the  money  Miss  Fortune  had  failed  to  supply 
for  the  journey;  how  much  it  might  be  Ellen  had 
no  idea.  She  could  not  dismiss  the  subject  as 
decided  by  circumstances,  for  conscience  pricked  her 
with  the  fifth  commandment.  She  was  miserable. 
It  happily  occurred  to  her  at  last  to  take  counsel 
with  Mrs.  Vawse  ;  this  might  be  done,  she  knew, 
without  betraying  Nancy ;  Mrs.  Vawse  was  much 
too  honorable  to  press  her  as  to  how  she  came  by 
the  letters,  and  her  word  could  easily  be  obtained 
not  to  speak  of  the  affairs  to  any  one.  As  for 
Miss  Fortune's  conduct,  it  must  be  made  known  ; 
there  was  no  help  for  that.  So  it  was  settled  ;  and 
Ellen's  breast  was  a  little  lightened  of  its  load  of 
care  for  that  time  ;  she  had  leisure  to  think  of 
some  other  things. 

Why  had  Miss  Fortune  kept  back  the  letters  ? 
Ellen  guessed  pretty  well,  but  she  did  not  know 
quite  all.  The  package,  with  its  accompanying 
dispatch  to  Miss  Fortune,  had  arrived  shortly  after 
Ellen  first  heard  the  news  of  her  mother's  death, 
when  she  was  refuged  with  Alice  at  the  parsonage. 
At  the  time  of  its  being  sent  Captain  Montgomery's 
movements  were  extremely  uncertain ;  and  in 
obedience  to  the  earnest  request  of  his  wife  he 
directed  that  without  waiting  for  his  own  return 
Ellen  should  immediately  set  out  for  Scotland. 
Part  of  the  money  for  her  expenses  he  sent ;  the 
rest  he  desired  his  sister  to  furnish,  promising  to 
make  all  straight  when  he  should  come  home.  But 
it  happened  that  he  was  already  this  lady's  debtor 
in  a  small  amount,  which  Miss  Fortune  had  serious 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


349 


doubts  of  ever  being  repaid ;  she  instantly  de- 
termined, that  if  she  had  once  been  a  fool  in  lend- 
ing him  money,  she  would  not  a  second  time  in 
adding  to  the  sum  ;  if  he  wanted  to  send  his  daughter 
on  a  wild-goose  chase  after  great  relations,  he  might 
come  home  himself  and  see  to  it ;  it  was  none  of 
her  business.  Quietly  taking  the  remittance  to 
refund  his  own  owing,  she  of  course  threw  the 
letters  into  her  box,  as  the  delivery  of  them  would 
expose  the  whole  transaction.  There  they  lay  till 
Nancy  found  them. 

Early  next  morning  after  breakfast  Ellen  came 
into  the  kitchen,  and  begged  Margery  to  ask 
Thomas  to  bring  the  Brownie  to  the  door.  Sur- 
prised at  the  energy  in  her  tone  and  manner, 
Margery  gave  the  message  and  added  that  Miss 
Ellen  seemed  to  have  picked  up  wonderfully  ;  she 
hadn't  heard  her  speak  so  brisk  since  Mr.  John 
went  away. 

The  Brownie  was  soon  at  the  door,  but  not  so 
soon  as  Ellen,  who  had  dressed  in  feverish  haste. 
The  Brownie  was  not  alone ;  there  was  old  John 
saddled  and  bridled,  and  Thomas  Grimes  in  wait- 
ing. 

"  It's  not  necessary  for  you  to  take  that  trouble, 
Thomas,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  don't  mind  going  alone 
at  all." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Ellen, — (Thomas 
touched  his  hat) — but  Mr.  John  left  particular 
orders  that  I  was  to  go  with  Miss  Ellen  whenever 
it  pleased  her  to  ride  ;  never  failing." 

"Did  he?"  said  Ellen; — "but  is  it  convenient 
for  you  now,  Thomas  ?  I  want  to  go  as  far  as 
Mrs.  Vawse's." 


350  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  It's  always  convenient,  Miss  Ellen, — always ; 
Miss  Ellen  need  not  think  of  that  at  all,  I  am 
always  ready." 

Ellen  mounted  upon  the  Brownie,  sighing  for  the 
want  of  the  hand  that  used  to  lift  her  to  the  saddle  ; 
and  spurred  by  this  recollection  set  off  at  a  round 
pace. 

Soon  she  was  at  Mrs.  Vawse's ;  and  soon,  find- 
ing her  alone,  Ellen  had  spread  out  all  her  diffi- 
culties before  her  and  given  her  the  letters  to  read. 
Mrs.  Vawse  readily  promised  to  speak  on  the  sub- 
ject to  no  one  without  E'Jen's  leave  ;  her  suspicions 
fell  upon  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  not  her  grand-daughter. 
She  heard  all  the  story,  and  read  the  letters  before 
making  any  remark. 

"  Now,  dear  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Ellen,  anxiously, 
when  the  last  one  was  folded  up  and  laid  on  the 
table, — "  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think,  my  child,  you  must  go,"  said  the  old 
lady,  steadily. 

Ellen  looked  keenly,  as  if  to  find  some  other 
answer  in  her  face ;  her  own  changing  more  and 
more  for  a  minute,  till  she  sunk   it  in   her  hands. 

"  Cela  vous  donne  beaucoup  de  chagrin, — je  le 
vois  bien,"  said  the  old  lady  tenderly.  (Their  con- 
versations were  always  in  Mrs.  Vawse's  tongue.) 

"  But,"  said  Ellen  presently,  lifting  her  head 
again  (there  were  no  tears) — "  I  cannot  go  without 
money." 

"  That  can   be  obtained   withe  v.  any  difficulty." 

"  From  whom  ?  I  cannot  ask  Aunt  Fortune  for 
it,  Mrs.  Vawse  ;   I  could  not  do  it ! " 

"  There  is  no  difficulty  about  the  money.  Shovl 
your  letters  to  Mr.  Humphreys." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WO  KID.  351 

"  Oh,  I  cannot !  "  said  Ellen,  covering  her  face 
again. 

"  Will  you  let  me  do  it  ?  I  will  speak  to  him  if 
you  will  permit  me." 

"  But  what  use  ?  He  ought  not  to  give  me  the 
money,  Mrs.  Vawse  ?  It  would  not  be  right ;  and 
to  show  him  the  letters  would  be  like  asking  him 
for  it.     Oh,  I  can't  bear  to  do  that  !  " 

"  He  would  give  it  you,  Ellen,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure." 

•  "  Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Vawse,"  said  Ellen,  bursting  into 
tears, — "  he  would  never  be  pleased  to  send  me 
away  from  him  !  I  know — I  know — he  would  miss 
me.     Oh,  what  shall  I  do  !  " 

"  Not  that,  my  dear  Ellen,"  said  the  old  lady, 
coming  to  her  and  gently  stroking  her  head  with 
both  hands.  You  must  do  what  is  right ;  and  you 
know  it  cannot  be  but  that  will  be  the  best  and 
happiest  for  you  in  the  end." 

"  Oh,  I  wish — I  wish,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  from  the 
bottom  of  her  heart, — "  those  letters  had  never 
been  found  !  " 

"  Nay,  Ellen,  that  is  not  right." 

"  But  I  promised  Alice,  Mrs.  Vawse  ;  ought  I  go 
away  and  leave  him  ?  Oh,  Mrs.  Vawse,  it  is  very 
hard  !     Ought   I  ?  " 

"  Your  father  and  your  mother  have  said  it,  my 
child." 

"  But  they  never  would  have  said  it  if  they  had 
known  !  " 

"  But  they  did  not  know,  Ellen  ;  and  here  it  is." 

Ellen  wept  violently,  regardless  of  the  caresses 
and  soothing  words  which  her  old  friend  lavished 
upon  her. 


352  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

"  There  is  one  thing  ! "  said  she  at  last,  raising 
her  head, — "  I  don't  know  of  anybody  going  to 
Scotland,  and  I  am  not  likely  to  ;  and  if  I  only  do 
not  before  autumn, — that  is  not  a  good  time  to  go, 
and  then  comes  winter." 

"  My  dear  Ellen  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vawse,  sorrowfully, 
"  I  must  drive  you  from  your  last  hope.  Don't 
you  know  that  Mrs.  Gillespie  is  going  abroad  with 
all  her  family  ? — next  month,  I  think." 

Ellen  grew  pale  for  a  minute,  and  sat  holding 
bitter  counsel  with  her  own  heart.  Mrs.  Vawse 
hardly  knew  what  to  say  next. 

"  You  need  not  feel  uneasy  about  your  journey- 
ing expenses,"  she  remarked  after  a  pause  ; — "  you 
can  easily  repay  them,  if  you  wish,  when  you  reach 
your  friends  in  Scotland." 

Ellen  did  not  hear  her.  She  looked  up  with  an 
odd  expression  of  determination  in  her  face,  de- 
termination taking  its  stand  upon  difficulties. 

"  I  sha'n't  stay  there,  Mrs.  Vawse,  if  I  go  ! — I 
shall  go,  I  suppose,  if  I  must ;  but  do  you  think 
anything  will  keep  me  there  ?     Never  !  " 

"  You  will  stay  for  the  same  reason  that  you  go 
for,  Ellen  ;  to  do  your  duty." 

"  Yes,  till  I  am  old  enough  to  choose  for  my- 
self, Mrs.  Vawse,  and  then  I  shall  come  back;  if 
they  will  let  me." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  '  they  '  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Humphreys  and  Mr.  John." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  the  old  lady,  kindly,  "  be 
satisfied  with  doing  your  duty  now  ;  leave  the 
future.  While  you  follow  Him,  God  will  be  your 
friend;  is  not  that  enough?  and  all  things  shall 
work  for  your  good.     You  do  not  know  what  you 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  353 

will  wish  when  the  time  comes  you  speak  of.  You 
do  not  know  what  new  friends  you  may  find  to 
love." 

Ellen  had  in  her  own  heart  the  warrant  for  what 
she  had  said  and  what  she  saw  by  her  smile  Mrs. 
Vawse  doubted ;  but  she  disdained  to  assert  what 
she  could  bring  nothing  to  prove.  She  took  a  sor- 
rowful leave  of  her  old  friend  and  returned  home. 

After  dinner,  \  len  Mr.  Humphreys  was  about 
going  back  to  his  s  dy,  Ellen  timidly  stopped  him 
and  gave  him  her  letters,  and  asked  him  to  look  at 
them  some  time  when  he  had  leisure.  She  told 
him  also  where  they  were  found  and  how  long  they 
had  lain  there,  and  that  Mrs.  Vawse  had  said  she 
ought  to  show  them  to  him. 

She  guessed  he  would  read  them  at  once, — and 
she  waited  with  a  beating  heart.  In  a  little  while 
she  heard  his  step  coming  back  along  the  hall. 
He  came  and  sat  down  by  her  on  the  sofa  and 
took  her  hand. 

"  What  is  your  wish  in  this  matter,  my  child  ? " 
he  said,  gravely  and  cheerfully.  . 

Ellen's  look  answered  that. 

"  I  will  do  whatever  you  say  I  must,  sir,"  she 
said,  faintly. 

•'  I  dare  not  ask  myself  what  /would  wish,  Ellen  ; 
the  matter  is  taken  out  of  our  hands.  You  must 
do  your  parents'  will,  my  child.  I  will  try  to  hope 
that  you  will  gain  more  than  I  lose.  As  the  Lord 
pleases  !  If  I  am  bereaved  of  my  children  I  am 
bereaved." 

"  Mrs.  Gillespie,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  Ct  & 
about  going  to  England  ; — I  know  not  how  soon. 
It  will  be  best  for  vou  to  see  her  at  once  and  make 
2% 


354  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

all  arrangements  that  may  be  necessary.  I  will  go 
with  you  to-morrow  to  Ventnor,  if  the  day  be  a 
good  one." 

There  was  something  Ellen  longed  to  say,  but  it 
was  impossible  to  get  it  out ;  she  could  not  utter  a 
word.  She  had  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  face 
to  try  to  keep  herself  quiet ;  but  Mr.  Humphreys 
could  see  the  deep  crimson  flushing  to  the  very 
roots  of  her  hair.  He  drew  her  close  within  his 
arms  for  a  moment,  kissed  her  forehead,  YWenfelt 
it  was  sadly,  and  went  away.  It  was  well  she  did 
not  hear  him  sigh  as  he  went  back  along  the  hall ; 
it  was  well  she  did  not  see  the  face  of  more  settled 
gravity  with  which  he  sat  down  to  his  writing ;  she 
had  enough  of  her  own. 

They  went  to  Ventnor.  Mrs.  Gillespie  with  great 
pleasure  undertook  the  charge  of  her  and  promised 
to  deliver  her  safely  to  her  friends  in  Scotland.  It 
was  arranged  that  she  should  go  back  to  Thirlwall 
to  make  her  adieus  ;  and  that  in  a  week  or  two  a 
carriage  should  be  sent  to  bring  her  to  Ventnor, 
where  her  preparations  for  the  journey  should  be 
made,  and  whence  the  whole  party  would  set  off. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  be  a  Scotchwoman  after 
all,  Ellen,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 

"  I  had  a  great  deal  rather  be  an  American,  Miss 
Sophia." 

"  Why,  Hutchinson  will  tell  you,"  said  the  young 
lady,  "  that  it  is  infinitely  more  desirable  to  be  a 
Scotchwoman  than  that." 

Ellen's  face,  however,  looked  so  little  inclined  to 
be  merry  that  she  took  up  the  subject  in  another 
tone. 

"  Seriously,  do  you  know,"  said   she,   "  I   have 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  355 

been  thinking  it  is  a  very  happy  thing  for  you.  I 
don't  know  what  would  become  of  you  alone  in 
that  great  parsonage  house.  You  would  mope 
yourself  to  death  in  a  little  while  ;  especially  now 
that  Mr.  John  is  gone." 

"  He  will  be  back,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  but  what  if  he  is  ?  he  can't  stay  at  Thirl- 
wall,  child.  He  can't  live  thirty  miles  from  his 
church,  you  know.  Did  you  think  he  would  ?  They 
think  all  the  world  of  him  already.  I  expect  they'll 
barely  put  up  with  Mr.  George  while  he  is  gone  ; 
— they  will  want  Mr.  John  all  to  themselves  when 
he  comes  back,  you  may  rely  on  that.  What  are 
you  thinking  of,  child  ?  " 

For  Ellen's  eyes  were  sparkling  with  two  or  three 
thoughts  which  Miss  Sophia  could  not  read. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  are  smiling  at," 
she  said,  with  some  curiosity.  But  the  smile  was 
almost  immediately  quenched  in  tears. 

Notwithstanding  Miss  Sophia's  discouraging  talk, 
Ellen  privately  agreed  with  Ellen  Chauncey  that 
the  Brownie  should  be  sent  to  her  to  keep  and  use 
as  her  own,  ////  his  mistress  should  come  back  ;  both 
children  being  entirely  of  opinion  that  the  arrange- 
ment was  a  most  unexceptionable  one. 

It  was  not  forgotten  that  the  lapse  of  three  years 
since  the  date  of  the  letters  left  some  uncertainty 
as  to  the  present  state  of  affairs  among  Ellen's 
friends  in  Scotland  ;  but  this  doubt  was  not  thought 
sufficient  to  justify  her  letting  pass  so  excellent  an 
opportunity  of  making  the  journey.  Especially  as 
Captain  Montgomery's  letter  spoke  of  an  uncle,  to 
whom,  equally  with  her  grandmother,  Ellen  was  to 
be  consigned.    In  case  circumstances  would  permit 


356  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

it,  Mrs.  Gillespie  engaged  to  keep  Ellen  with  her, 
and  bring  her  home  to  America  when  she  herself 
should  return. 

And  in  little  more  than  a  month  they  were  gone  , 
adieus  and  preparations  and  all  were  over.  Ellen's 
parting  with  Mrs.  Vawse  was  very  tender  and  very 
sad ; — with  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  extremely  and  grate- 
fully affectionate,  on  both  sides  ; — with  her  aunt, 
constrained  and  brief  ; — with  Margery,  very  sorrow- 
ful indeed.  But  Ellen's  longest  and  most  lingering 
adieu  was  to  Captain  Parry,  the  old  gray  cat.  For 
one  whole  evening  she  sat  with  him  in  her  arms ; 
and  over  poor  pussy  were  shed  the  tears  that  fell 
for  many  better  loved  and  better  deserving  per- 
sonages, as  well  as  those,  not  a  few,  that  were  wept 
for  him.  Since  Alice's  death  Parry  had  transferred 
his  entire  confidence  and  esteem  to  Ellen  ;  whether 
from  feeling  a  want,  or  because  love  and  tender- 
ness had  taught  her  the  touch  and  the  tone  that 
were  fitted  to  win  his  regard.  Only  John  shared  it. 
Ellen  was  his  chief  favorite  and  almost  constant 
companion.  And  bitterer  tears  Ellen  shed  at  no 
time  than  that  evening  before  she  went  away,  over 
the  old  cat.  She  could  not  distress  kitty  with  her 
distress,  nor  weary  him  with  the  calls  upon  his 
sympathy,  though  indeed  it  is  true  that  he  sundry 
times  poked  his  nose  up  wonderingly  and  caress- 
ingly in  her  face.  She  had  no  remonstrance  or 
interruption  to  fear ;  and  taking  pussy  as  the  em- 
blem and  representative  of  the  whole  household, 
Ellen  wept  them  all  over  him  ;  with  a  tenderness 
and  a  bitterness  that  were  somehow  intensified  by 
the  sight  of  the  gray  coat,  and  white  paws,  and 
kindly  face,  of  her  unconscious  old  brute  friend. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  357 

The  old  people  at  Carra-carra  were  taken  leave 
of;  the  Brownie  too,  with  great  difficulty.  And 
Nancy. 

'*  I'm  real  sorry  you  are  going,  Ellen,"  said  she ; 
■ — "  you're  the  only  soul  in  town  I  care  about.  I 
wish  I'd  thrown  them  letters  in  the  fire  after  all ! 
Who'd  ha'  thought  it !  " 

Ellen  could  not  help  in  her  heart  echoing  the 
wish. 

"  I'm  real  sorry,  Ellen,"  she  repeated.  "  Ain't 
there  something  I  can  do  for  you  when  you  are 
gone  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  Nancy,"  said  Ellen,  weeping, — 
"if  you  would  only  take  care  of  your  dear  grand- 
mother. She  is  left  alone  now.  If  you  would  only 
take  care  of  her,  and  read  your  Bible,  and  be  good, 
Nancy, — oh,  Nancy,  Nancy  !  do,  do  !  " 

They  kissed  each  other,  and  Nancy  went  away 
fairly  crying. 

Mrs.  Marshman's  own  woman,  a  steady,  excel- 
lent person,  had  come  in  the  carriage  for  Ellen. 
And  the  next  morning  early,  after  breakfast,  when 
everything ,  else  was  ready,  she  went  into  Mr. 
Humphreys'  study  to  bid  the  last  dreaded  good- 
bye. She  thought  her  obedience  was  costing  her 
dear. 

It  was  nearly  a  silent  parting.  He  held  her  a 
long  time  in  his  arms;  and  there  Ellen  bitterly 
thought  her  place  ought  to  be.  "  What  have  I  to 
do  to  seek  new  relations  ? "  she  said  to  herself. 
But  she  was  speechless ;  till  gently  relaxing  his 
hold  he  tenderly  smoothed  back  her  disordered  hair, 
and  kissing  her,  said  a  very  few  grave  words  of 
blessing   and    counsel.      Ellen    gathered    all  her 


358  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

strength  together  then,  for  she  had  something  that 
must  be  spoken. 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  falling  on  her  knees  before  him 
and  looking  up  in  his  face, — "  this  don't  alter — you 
do  not  take  back  what  you  said,  do  you  ? " 

"  What  is  that  I  said,  my  child  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  Ellen,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands 
on  his  knee,  and  scarce  able  to  speak  with  great 
effort, — "  that  which  you  said  when  I  first  came — 
that  which  you  said — about " 

"  About  what,  my  dear  child  ? " 

"  My  going  away  don't  change  anything,  does  it, 
sir  ?     Mayn't  I  come  back,  if  ever  I  can  ?  " 

He  raised  her  up  and  drew  her  close  to  his 
bosom  again. 

"  My  dear  little  daughter,"  said  he,  "  you  can- 
not be  so  glad  to  come  back  as  my  arms  and  my 
heart  will  be  to  receive  you.  I  scarce  dare  hope  to 
see  that  day,  but  all  in  this  house  is  yours,  dear 
Ellen,  as  well  when  in  Scotland  as  here.  I  take 
back  nothing,  my  daughter.      Nothing  is  changed." 

A  word  or  two  more  of  affection  and  blessing, 
which  Ellen  was  utterly  unable  to  answer  in  any 
way, — and  she  went  to  the  carriage  ;  with  one  drop 
of  cordial  in  her  heart,  that  she  fed  upon  a  long 
while.  "  He  called  me  his  daughter  ? — he  never 
said  that  before  since  Alice  died  !  Oh,  so  I  will 
be  as  long  as  I  live,  if  I  find  fifty  new  relations. 
But  what  good  will  a  daughter  three  thousand  miles 
off  do  him !  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XtVII. 

Speed.  Item.     She  is  proud. 

Laun.  Out  with  that;— it  was  Eve's  legacy,  and  cannot  be  ta'en  from  her 

Shakspeark. 

The  voyage  was  peaceful  and  prosperous  ;  in 
due  time  the  whole  party  found  themselves  safe  in 
London.  Ever  since  they  set  out  Ellen  had  been 
constantly  gaining  on  Mrs.  Gillespie's  good-will  j 
the  Major  hardly  saw  her  but  he  had  something  to 
say  about  that  ■  •  best-bred  child  in  the  world." 
"  Best-hearted  too,  I  think,"  said  the  Major ;  and 
even  Mrs.  Gillespie  owned  that  there  was  some- 
thing more  than  good-breeding  in  Ellen's  politeness. 
She  had  good  trial  of  it ;  Mrs.  Gillespie  was  much 
longer  ailing  than  any  of  the  party  ;  and  when 
Ellen  got  well,  it  was  her  great  pleasure  to  devote 
herself  to  the  service  of  the  only  member  of  the 
Marshman  family  now  within  her  reach.  She 
could  never  do  too  much.  She  watched  by  her, 
read  to  her,  was  quick  to  see  and  perform  all  the 
little  offices  of  attention  and  kindness  where  a 
servant's  hand  is  not  so  acceptable  ;  and  withal 
never  was  in  the  way  nor  put  herself  forward.  Mrs. 
Gillespie's  own  daughter  was  much  less  helpful. 
Both  she  and  William,  however,  had  long  since 
forgotten  the  old  grudge,  and  treated  Ellen  as  well 
as  they  did  anybody ;  rather  better.  Major  Gil- 
lespie was  attentive  and  kind  as  possible  to  the 
gentle,  well-behaved  little  body  that  was  always  at 
his  wife's  pillow ;  and  even  Lester,  the  maid,  told 
one  of  her  friends  "  she  was  such  a  sweet  little  lady 
that  it  was  a  pleasure  and  gratification  to  do  any* 


360  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

thing  for  her."  Lester  acted  this  out ;  and  in  het 
kindly  disposition  Ellen  found  very  substantial 
comfort  and  benefit  throughout  the  voyage. 

Mrs.  Gillespie  told  her  husband  she  should  be 
rejoiced  if  it  turned  out  that  they  might  keep  Ellen 
with  them  and  carry  her  back  to  America ;  she 
only  wished  it  were  not  for  Mr.  Humphreys  but 
herself.  As  their  destination  was  not  now  Scot- 
land, but  Paris,  it  was  proposed  to  write  to  Ellen's 
friends  to  ascertain  whether  any  change  had  oc- 
curred, or  whether  they  still  wished  to  receive  her. 
This,  however,  was  rendered  unnecessary.  Thty 
were  scarcely  established  in  their  hotel,  when  a 
gentleman  from  Edinburgh,  an  intimate  friend  UE 
the  Ventnor  family,  and  whom  Ellen  herself  had 
more  than  once  met  there,  came  to  see  them.  Mi  . 
Gillespie  bethought  herself  to  make  inquiries  \i 
him. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  a  family  of  Lindsays, 
in  George  Street,  Mr.  Dundas  ? " 

"  Lindsays  ?  yes,  perfectly  well.  Do  you  know 
them?" 

"  No ;  but  I  am  very  much  interested  in  one  of 
the  family.     Is  the  old  lady  living  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly  ; — not  very  old,  either — not  above 
sixty,  or  sixty-five ;  and  as  hale  and  alert  as  at 
forty.     A  very  fine  old  lady." 

"  A  large  family  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  Mr.  Lindsay  is  a  widower  this  some 
years,  with  no  children  ;  and  there  is  a  widowed 
daughter  lately  come  home, — Lady  Keith  ; — that's 
all." 

"  Mr.  Lindsay — that  is,  the  son  ?  " 

"  Yes.     You  would  like  them.     They  are  excel« 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  361 

lent  people — excellent  family — wealthy — beautiful 
country-seat  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Forth  some 
miles  out  of  Edinburgh ;  I  was  down  there  two 
weeks  ago  ; — entertain  most  handsomely  and  agree- 
ably, two  things  that  do  not  always  go  together. 
You  meet  a  pleasanter  circle  nowhere  than  at 
Lindsay's." 

"  And  that  is  the  whole  family  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Gillespie. 

"  That  is  all.  There  were  two  daughters  married 
who  went  to  America  some  dozen  years  ago. 
Mrs.  Lindsay  took  it  very  hard  I  believe,  but  she 
bore  up,  and  bears  up  now,  as  if  misfortune  had 
never  crossed  her  path  ;  though  the  death  of  Mr. 
Lindsay's  wife  and  son  was  another  great  blow.  I 
don't  believe  there  is  a  gray  hair  in  her  head  at 
this  moment.  There  is  some  peculiarity  about 
them,  perhaps, — some  pride  too  ; — but  that  is  an 
amiable  weakness,"  he  added,  laughing,  as  he  rose 
to  go  ; — "  Mrs.  Gillespie,  I  am  sure,  will  not  find 
fault  with  them  for  it." 

"  That's  an  insinuation,  Mr.  Dundas  ;  but,  look 
here,  what  I  am  bringing  to  Mrs.  Lindsay  in  the 
shape  of  a  grand -daughter." 

"  What,  my  old  acquaintance,  Miss  Ellen  !  is  it 
possible ! — My  dear  madam,  if  you  had  such  a 
treasure  for  sale,  they  would  pour  half  their  fortune 
into  your  lap  to  purchase  it,  and  the  other  half  at 
her  feet." 

"  I  would  not  take  it,  Mr.  Dundas." 

"  It  would  be  no  mean  price,  I  assure  you,  in 
itself,  however  it  might  be  comparatively.  I  give 
Miss  Ellen  joy." 

Miss  Ellen  took  none  of  his  giving. 


362  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  Ah,  Ellen,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie,  when 
he  was  gone, — "  we  shall  never  have  you  back  in 
America  again.  I  give  up  all  hopes  of  it.  Why 
do  you  look  so  solemn,  my  love  ?  You  are  a  strange 
child  ;  most  girls  would  be  delighted  at  such  a  pros- 
pect opening  before  them." 

"  You  forget  what  I  leave,  Mrs.  Gillespie. * 

"  So  will  you,  my  love,  in  a  few  days  ;  though  I 
love  you  for  remembering  so  well  those  that  have 
been  kind  to  you.  But  you  don't  realize  yet  what 
is  before  you.'' 

"  Why,  you'll  have  a  good  time,  Ellen,"  said 
Marianna  ; — "  I  wonder  you  are  not  out  of  your 
wits  with  joy.     /  should  be." 

"  You  may  as  well  make  over  the  Brownie  to  me, 
Ellen,"  said  William; — "  I  expect  you'll  never  want 
him  again." 

"  I  cannot,  you  know,  William  ;  I  lent  him  to 
Ellen  Chauncey." 

"  Lent  him  ! — that's  a  good  one.     For  how  long  ?  " 

Ellen  smiled,  though  sighing  inwardly  to  see  how 
very  much  narrowed  was  her  prospect  of  ever  mount- 
ing him  again.  She  did  not  care  to  explain  herself 
to  those  around  her.  Still,  at  the  very  bottom  of 
her  heart  lay  two  thoughts,  in  which  her  hope  ref- 
uged itseL.  One  was  a  peculiar  assurance  that 
whatever  her  brother  pleased,  nothing  could  hinder 
him  from  accomplishing ;  the  oth  r,  a  like  confi- 
dence that  it  would  not  please  him  to  leave  his  little 
sister  unlooked-after.  But  all  began  to  grow  misty, 
and  it  seemed  now  as  if  Scotland  must  henceforth 
be  the  limit  of  her  horizon. 

Leaving  their  children  at  a  relation's  house,  Ma- 
jor and  Mrs.  Gillespie  accompanied  her  to  the  north 


THE   WIPE,  WIDE   WORLD.  363 

They  traveled  post,  and  arriving  in  the  evening  at 
Edinburgh,  put  up  at  a  hotel  in  Princes  Street.  It 
was  agreed  that  Ellen  should  not  seek  her  new  home 
till  the  morrow ;  she  should  eat  one  more  supper 
and  breakfast  with  her  old  friends,  and  have  a 
night's  rest  first.  She  was  very  glad  of  it.  The 
Major  and  Mrs.  Gillespie  were  enchanted  with  the 
noble  view  :om  their  parlor  windows  ;  while  they 
were  eagerly  conversing  together,  Ellen  sat  alone 
at  the  other  window,  looking  out  upon  the  curious 
Old  Town.  There  was  all  the  fascination  of  novelty 
and  beauty  about  Lhat  singular,  picturesque  mass 
of  buildings,  in  its  sober  coloring,  growing  more 
sober  as  the  twilight  fell ;  and  just  before  outlines 
were  lost  in  the  dusk,  lights  began  feebly  to  twinkle 
here  and  there,  and  grew  brighter  as  the  night  came 
on,  till  their  brilliant  multitude  were  all  that  could 
be  seen  where  the  curious  jumble  of  chimneys  and 
house-tops  and  crooked  ways  had  shown  a  little 
before.  Ellen  sat  watching  this  lighting  up  of  the 
Old  Town,  feeling  strangely  that  she  was  in  the 
midst  of  new  scenes  indeed,  entering  upon  a  new 
stage  of  life  ;  and  having  some  difficulty  to  per- 
suade herself  that  she  was  really  Ellen  Montgomery. 
The  scene  of  extreme  beauty  before  her  seemed 
rather  to  increase  the  confusion  and  sadness  of  her 
mind.  Happily,  joyfully,  Ellen  remembered,  as  she 
sat  gazing  over  the  darkening  city,  and  its  brighten- 
ing lights,  that  there  was  One  near  her  who  could 
not  change  ;  that  Scotland  was  no  remove  from 
Him ;  that  His  providence  as  well  as  His  heaven 
was  over  her  there  ;  that  there,  not  less  than  in 
America,  she  was  His  child.  She  rejoiced,  as  she 
sat  in  her  dusky  window,  over  His  words  of  assur- 


364  THE  WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

ance,  "  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  kn<rw  My 
sheep,  and  am  known  of  Mine  ;  "  and  she  looked 
up  into  the  clear  sky  (that  at  least  was  homelike), 
in  tearful  thankfulness,  and  with  earnest  prayer 
that  she  might  be  kept  from  evil.  Ellen  guessed 
she  might  have  special  need  to  offer  that  prayer. 
And  as  again  her  eye  wandered  over  the  singular 
bright  spectacle  that  kept  reminding  her  she  was  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  place,  her  heart  joyfully  leaned 
upon  another  loved  sentence, — "  This  God  is  our 
God  for  ever  and  ever  ;  He  will  be  our  guide  even 
unto  death." 

She  was  called  from  her  window  to  supper. 

"  Why,  how  well  you  look,"  said  Mrs.  Gillespie  ; 
"  I  expected  you  would  have  been  half  tired  to 
death.     Doesn't  she  look  well  ?  " 

"  As  if  she  were  neither  tired,  hungry,  nor  sleepy," 
said  Major  Gillespie,  kindly  ; — "  and  yet  she  must 
be  all  three." 

Ellen  was  all  three.  But  she  had  the  rest  of  a 
quiet  mind. 

In  the  same  quiet  mind,  a  little  fluttered  and  anx- 
ious now,  she  set  out  in  the  post-chaise  the  next 
morning  with  her  kind  friend  to  No.  —  George  Street. 
It  was  their  intention,  after  leaving  her,  to  go 
straight  on  to  England.  They  were  in  a  hurry  to 
be  there  ;  and  Mrs.  Gillespie  judged  that  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger  at  the  meeting  between  Ellen 
and  her  relations  would  be  desired  by  none  of  the 
parties.  But  when  they  reached  the  house  they 
found  the  family  were  not  at  home  ;  they  were  in 
the  country — at  their  place  on  the  Forth.  The  di- 
rection was  obtained,  and  the  horses'  heads  turned 
that  way.     After  a  drive   of  some  length,  through 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  305 

what  kind  of  a  country  Ellen  could  hardly  have  told, 
they  arrived  at  the  place. 

It  was  beautifully  situated  ;  and  through  well-kept 
grounds  they  drove  up  to  a  large,  rather  old-fash- 
ioned, substantial-looking  house.  "  The  ladies 
were  at  home  ; "  and  that  ascertained,  Ellen  took 
a  kind  leave  of  Mrs.  Gillespie,  shook  hands  with 
the  Major  at  the  door,  and  was  left  alone,  for  the 
second  time  in  her  life,  to  make  her  acquaintance 
with  new  and  untried  friends.  She  stood  for  one 
second  looking  after  the  retreating  carriage, — one 
swift  thought  went  to  her  adopted  father  and  brother 
far  away, — one  to  her  Friend  in  heaven, — and  Ellen 
quietly  turned  to  the  servant  and  asked  for  Mrs. 
Lindsay. 

She  was  shown  into  a  large  room  where  nobody 
was,  and  sat  down  with  a  beating  heart  while  the 
servant  went  upstairs ;  looking  with  a  strange  feel- 
ing upon  what  was  to  be  her  future  home.  The 
house  was  handsome,  comfortably,  luxuriously  fur- 
nished, but  without  any  attempt  at  display.  Things 
rather  old-fashioned  than  otherwise  ;  plain,  even 
homely,  in  some  instances  ;  yet  evidently  there  was 
no  sparing  of  money  in  any  line  of  use  or  comfort ; 
nor  were  reading  and  writing,  painting  and  music, 
strangers  there.  Unconsciously  acting  upon  her 
brother's  principle  of  judging  of  people  from  their 
works,  Ellen,  from  what  she  saw  gathered  around 
her,  formed  a  favorable  opinion  of  her  relations  ; 
without  thinking  of  it,  for  indeed  she  was  thinking 
of  something  else. 

A  lady  presently  entered,  and  said  that  Mrs. 
Lindsay  was  not  very  well.  Seeing  Ellen's  very 
hesitating  look,  she  added,  "  Shall  I  carry  her  any 
message  for  you  ?  " 


3O6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

This  lady  was  well-looking  and  well-dressed  \ 
but  somehow  there  was  nothing  in  her  face  or  man- 
ner that  encouraged  Ellen  to  an  explanation  ;  she 
could  make  none.  She  silently  gave  her  her  father's 
letter,  with  which  the  lady  left  the  room. 

In  a  minute  or  two  she  returned  and  said  her 
mother  would  see  Ellen  upstairs,  and  asked  her  to 
come  with  her.  This,  then,  must  be  Lady  Keith  ! 
— but  no  sign  of  recognition  ?  Ellen  wondered,  as 
her  trembling  feet  carried  her  upstairs  and  to  the 
door  of  the  room  where  the  lady  motioned  her  to 
enter  ;  she  did  not  follow  herself. 

A  large,  pleasant  dressing-room  ;  but  Ellen  saw 
nothing  but  the  dignified  figure  and  searching  glance 
of  a  lady  in  black,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  At  the  look  which  instantly  followed  her 
entering,  however,  Ellen  sprang  forward,  and  was 
received  in  arms  that  folded  her  as  fondly  and  as 
closely  as  ever  those  of  her  own  mother  had  done. 
Without  releasing  her  from  their  clasp,  Mrs.  Lind- 
say presently  sat  down  ;  and  placing  Ellen  on  her 
lap,  and  for  a  long  time  without  speaking  a  word, 
she  overwhelmed  her  with  caresses, — caresses  often 
interrupted  with  passionate  bursts  of  tears.  Ellen 
herself  cried  heartily  for  company,  though  Mrs.  Lind- 
say little  guessed  why.  Along  with  the  joy  and 
tenderness  arising  from  the  finding  a  relation  that 
so  much  loved  and  valued  her,  and  along  with  the 
sympathy  that  entered  into  Mrs.  Lindsay's  thoughts, 
there  mixed  other  feelings.  She  began  to  know,  as 
if  by  instinct,  what  kind  of  a  person  her  grand- 
mother was.  The  clasp  of  the  arms  that  were  about 
her  said  as  plainly  as  possible,  "  I  will  never  let 
you  go !  "     Ellen  felt  it ;  she  did  not  know  in  hef 


THE   WIDE*  WIDE   WORLD.  367 

confusion  whether  she  was  most  glad  or  most  sorry ; 
and  this  uncertainty  mightily  helped  the  flow  of  her 
tears. 

When  this  scene  had  lasted  some  time  Mrs. 
Lindsay  began  with  the  utmost  tenderness  to  take 
off  Ellen's  gloves,  her  cape  (her  bonnet  had  been 
hastily  thrown  off  long  before),  and  smoothing  back 
her  hair,  and  taking  the  fair  little  face  in  both  her 
hands,  she  looked  at  it  and  pressed  it  to  her  own, 
as  indeed  something  most  dearly  prized  and  valued. 
Then  saying,  "  I  must  lie  down  ;  come  in  here, 
love," — she  led  her  into  the  next  room,  locked  the 
door,  made  Ellen  stretch  herself  on  the  bed ;  and 
placing  herself  beside  her,  drew  her  close  to  her 
bosom  again,  murmuring,  "  My  own  child — my  pre- 
cious child — my  Ellen — my  own  darling — why  did 
you  stay  away  so  long  from  me  ? — tell  me." 

It  was  necessary  to  tell ;  and  this  could  not  be 
done  without  revealing  Miss  Fortune's  disgraceful 
conduct.  Ellen  was  sorry  for  that ;  she  knew  her 
mother's  American  match  had  been  unpopular 
with  her  friends  ;  and  now  what  notions  this  must 
give  them  of  one  at  least  of  the  near  connections 
to  whom  it  had  introduced  her.  She  winced  under 
what  might  be  her  grandmother's  thoughts.  Mrs. 
Lindsay  heard  her  in  absolute  silence,  and  made 
no  comment ;  and  at  the  end  again  kissed  her  lips 
and  cheeks,  embracing  her,  Ellen  felt,  as  a  recov- 
ered treasure  that  would  not  be  parted  with.  She 
was  not  satisfied  till  she  had  drawn  Ellen's  head 
fairly  to  rest  on  her  breast,  and  then  her  caressing 
hand  often  touched  her  cheek,  or  smoothed  back 
her  hair,  softly  now  and  then  asking  slight  ques- 
tions about  her  voyage  and  journey  ;  till  exhausted 


368  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

from  excitement  more  than  fatigue  Ellen  fell 
asleep. 

Her  grandmother  was  beside  her  when  she 
awoke,  and  busied  herself  with  evident  delight  in 
helping  her  to  get  off  her  traveling  clothes  and  put 
on  others  ;  and  then  she  took  her  downstairs  and 
presented  her  to  her  aunt. 

Lady  Keith  had  not  been  at  home,  nor  in  Scot- 
land, at  the  time  the  letters  passed  between  Mrs. 
Montgomery  and  her  mother ;  and  the  result  of 
that  correspondence  respecting  Ellen  had  been 
known  to  no  one  except  Mrs.  Lindsay  and  her  son. 
They  had  long  given  her  up  ;  the  rather  as  they 
had  seen  in  the  papers  the  name  of  Captain  Mont- 
gomery among  those  lost  in  the  ill-fated  "  Due 
d'Orleans."  Lady  Keith  therefore  had  no  suspicion 
who  Ellen  might  be.  She  received  her  affection- 
ately, but  Ellen  did  not  get  rid  of  her  first  impres- 
sion. 

Her  uncle  she  did  not  see  until  late  in  the  day, 
when  he  came  home.  The  evening  was  ^extremely 
fair,  and  having  obtained  permission,  Ellen  wan- 
dered out  into  the  shrubbery  ;  glad  to  be  alone,  and 
glad  for  a  moment  to  exchange  new  faces  for  old ; 
the  flowers  were  old  friends  to  her,  and  never  hap! 
looked  more  friendly  than  then.  New  and  old 
both  were  there.  Ellen  went  on  softly  from  flower- 
bed to  flower-bed,  soothed  and  rested,  stopping 
here  to  smell  one,  or  there  to  gaze  at  some  old 
favorite  or  new  beauty,  thinking  curious  thoughts 
of  the  past  and  the  future,  and  through  it  all  taking 
a  quiet  lesson  from  the  flowers  ; — when  a  servant 
came  after  her  with  a  request  from  Mrs.  Lindsay 
that  she  would  return  to  the  house.     Ellen  hurried 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  369 

in  ;  she  guessed  for  what,  and  was  sure  as  soon  as 
she  opened  the  door  and  saw  the  figure  of  a  gentle- 
man sitting  before  Mrs.  Lindsay.  Ellen  remem- 
bered well  she  was  sent  to  her  uncle  as  well  as  her 
grandmother,  and  she  came  forward  with  a  beating 
heart  to  Mrs.  Lindsay's  outstretched  hand,  which 
presented  her  to  this  other  ruler  of  her  destiny. 
He  was  very  different  from  Lady  Keith, — her  anx- 
ious glance  saw  that  at  once, — more  like  his  mother. 
A  man  not  far  from  fifty  years  old ;  fine  looking 
and  stately  like  her.  Ellen  was  not  left  long  in 
supsense  ;  his  look  instantly  softened  as  his  mother's 
had  done  :  he  drew  her  to  his  arms  with  great 
affection,  and  evidently  with  very  great  pleasure ; 
then  held  her  off  for  a  moment  while  he  looked  at 
her  changing  color  and  downcast  eye,  and  folded 
her  close  in  his  arms  again,  from  which  he  seemed 
hardly  willing  to  let  her  go,  whispering  as  he  kissed 
her,  "  You  are  my  own  child  now, — you  are  my 
little  daughter, — do  you  know  that,  Ellen  ?  I  am 
your  father  henceforth  ; — you  belong  to  me  entirely 
and  I  belong  to  you  ;  my  own  little  daughter  !  " 

"  I  wonder  how  many  times  one  may  be  adopted," 
thought  Ellen  that  evening  ; — "  but  to  be  sure,  my 
father  and  my  mother  have  quite  given  me  up  here 
—that  makes  a  difference  ;  they  had  a  right  to 
give  me  away  if  they  pleased.  I  suppose  I  do 
belong  to  my  uncle  and  grandmother  in  good  ear- 
nest, and  I  cannot  help  myself.  Well !  but  Mr. 
Humphreys  seems  a  great  deal  more  like  my 
father  than  my  Uncle  Lindsay.  I  cannot  help  that 
— but  how  they  would  be  vexed  if  they  knew  it !  " 

That  was  profoundly  true  ! 

Ellen  was  in  a  few  days  the  dear  pet  and  darling 
24 


37 o  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD* 

of  the  whole  household,  without  exception^  and 
almost  without  limit.  At  first,  for  a  day  or  two, 
there  was  a  little  lurking  doubt,  a  little  anxiety,  a 
constant  watch,  on  the  part  of  all  her  friends, 
whether  they  were  not  going  to  find  something  in 
their  newly-acquired  treasure  to  disappoint  them  J 
whether  it  could  be  that  there  was  nothing  behind 
to  belie  the  first  promise.  Less  keen  observers, 
however,  could  not  have  failed  to  see  very  soon 
that  there  was  no  disappointment  to  be  looked  for  ; 
Ellen  was  just  what  she  seemed,  without  the 
shadow  of  a  cloak  in  anything.  Doubts  vanished  ; 
and  Ellen  had  not  been  three  days  in  the  house 
when  she  was  taken  home  to  two  hearts  at  least  in 
unbounded  love  and  tenderness.  When  Mr.  Lind- 
say was  present  he  was  not  satisfied  without  having 
Ellen  in  his  arms  or  close  beside  him  ;  and  if  not 
there  she  was  at  the  side  of  her  grandmother. 

There  was  nothing,  however,  in  the  character  of 
this  fondness,  great  as  it  was,  that  would  have  in- 
clined any  child  to  presume  upon  it.  Ellen  was 
least  of  all  likely  to  try  ;  but  if  her  will,  by  any 
chance,  had  run  counter  to  theirs,  she  would  have 
found  it  impossible  to  maintain  her  ground.  She 
understood  this  from  the  first  with  her  grandmother  ; 
and  in  one  or  two  trifles  since  had  been  more  and 
more  confirmed  in  the  feeling  that  they  would  do 
with  her  and  make  of  her  precisely  what  they 
pleased,  without  the  smallest  regard  to  her  fancy. 
If  it  jumped  with  theirs,  very  well ;  if  not,  it  must 
yield.  In  one  matter  Ellen  had  been  roused  to 
plead  very  hard,  and  even  with  tears,  to  have  her 
wish,  which  she  verily  thought  she  ought  to  have 
had.     Mrs.    Lindsay  smiled   and  kissed    her,   and 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  371 

went  on  with  the  utmost  coolness  in  what  she  was 
doing,  which  she  carried  through,  without  in 
the  least  regarding  Ellen's  distress  or  showing  the 
slightest  discomposure  ;  and  the  same  thing  was 
repeated  every  day,  till  Ellen  got  used  to  it.  Her 
uncle  she  had  never  seen  tried  ;  but  she  knew  it 
would  be  the  same  with  him.  When  Mr.  Lindsay 
clasped  her  to  his  bosom  Ellen  felt  it  was  as  his  own  ; 
his  eye  always  seemed  to  repeat,  "  My  own  little 
daughter ; "  and  in  his  whole  manner  love  was 
mingled  with  as  much  authority.  Perhaps  Ellen 
did  not  like  them  much  the  worse  for  this,  as  she 
had  no  sort  of  disposition  to  displease  them  in  any- 
thing ;  but  it  gave  rise  to  sundry  thoughts,  how- 
ever, which  she  kept  to  herself  ;  thoughts  that  went 
both  to  the  future  and  the  past. 

Lady  Keith,  it  may  be,  had  less  heart  to  give 
than  her  mother  and  brother,  but  pride  took  up  the 
matter  instead ;  and  according  to  her  measure 
Ellen  held  with  her  the  same  place  she  held  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  ;  being  the  great  delight  and 
darling  of  all  three  ;  and  with  all  three,  seemingly, 
the  great  object  in  life. 

A  few  days  after  her  arrival,  a  week  or  more,  she 
underwent  one  evening  a  kind  of  catechising  from 
her  aunt,  as  to  her  former  manner  of  life ; — where 
she  had  been  and  with  whom  since  her  mother  left 
her  ;  what  she  had  been  doing  ;  whether  she  had 
been  to  school,  and  how  her  time  was  spent  at 
home,  etc.,  etc.  No  comments  whatever  were 
made  on  her  answers,  but  a  something  in  her  aunt's 
face  and  manner  induced  Ellen  to  make  her  replies 
as  brief  and  to  give  her  as  little  information  in  them 
as  she  could.     She  did  not  feel  inclined  to  enlarge 


372  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

upon  anything,  or  to  go  at  all  further  than  th<? 
questions  obliged  her ;  and  Lady  Keith  endea 
without  having  more  than  a  very  general  notion  of 
Ellen's   way  of  life  for  three  or  four   years    past. 

This  conversation  was  repeated  to  her  grand- 
mother and  uncle. 

"  To  think,"  said  the  latter,  the  next  morning  at 
breakfast, — "to  think  that  the  backwoods  of 
America  should  have  turned  us  out  such  a  little 
specimen  of " 

'*  Of  what,  uncle  ?  "  said  Ellen,  laughing 

"  Ah,  I  shall  not  tell  you  that,"  said  he. 

"But  it  is  extraordinary,"  said  Lady  Keith, — 
"  how  after  living  among  a  parcel  of  thick-headed 
and  thicker  tongued  Yankees  she  should  come  out 
and  speak  pure  English  in  a  clear  voice  ; — it  is  an 
enigma  to  me." 

"  Take  care,  Catherine,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  laugh- 
ing,— "  you  are  touching  Ellen's  nationality  ; — look 
here,"  said  he,  drawing  his  fingers  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  She  must  learn  to  have  no  nationality  but 
yours,"  said  Lady  Keith,  somewhat  shortly. 

Ellen's  lips  were  open,  but  she  spoke  not. 

"  It  is  well  you  have  come  out  from  the  Americans, 
you  see,  Ellen,"  pursued  Mr.  Lindsay; — "your 
aunt  does  not  like  them." 

"  But  why,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  he,  gravely, — "  don't  you  know  that 
they  are  a  parcel  of  rebels  who  have  broken  loose 
from  all  loyalty  and  fealty,  that  no  good  Briton  has 
any  business  to  like  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  in  earnest,  uncle  ?  " 

"  You   are,    I    see,"    said    he,    looking   amused 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


373 


K  Are  you  one  of  tho°~  that  make  a  saint  of  George 
Washington  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  fhink  he  was  a  great  deal 
better  than  some  saints.  But  I  don't  think  the 
Americans  were  rebels." 

"  You  are  a  little  rebel  yourself.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  you  think  the  Americans  were  right?" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  think  they  were  wrong, 
uncle  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  he,  "  if  I  had  been  in  the 
English  army  I  should  have  fought  them  with  all  my 
heart." 

"  And  if  I  had  been  in  the  American  army  I 
would  have  fought  you  with  all  my  heart,  Uncle 
Lindsay." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  he,  laughing, — " you  right  I 
you  don't  look  as  if  you  would  do  battle  with  a 
good-sized  mosquito." 

"  Ah,  but  I  mean,  if  I  had  been  a  man,"  said 
Ellen. 

"  You  had  better  put  in  that  qualification.  After 
all,  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  may  be  as  well  for  you 
on  the  whole  that  we  did  not  meet.  I  don't  know 
but  we  might  have  had  a  pretty  stiff  encounter, 
though." 

"  A  good  cause  is  stronger  than  a  bad  one,, 
uncle." 

"  But,  Ellen, — these  Americans  forfeited  entirely 
the  character  of  good  friends  to  England  and  good 
subjects  to  King  George." 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  King  George's  fault,  uncle  ;  he 
and  the  English  forfeited  their  characters  first." 

"  I  declare,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  laughing,  "  if 
your  sword  had  been    as  stout  as  your   tongue,   I 


374  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

don't  know  how  I  might  have  come  off  in  that  same 
encounter." 

"  I  hope  Ellen  will  get  rid  of  these  strange  notions 
about  the  Americans,"  said  Lady  Keith,  discon- 
tentedly. 

81 1  hope  not,  Aunt  Keith,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  "    said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"What,   sir?" 

"  These  notions." 

"  In  reading,  sir ;  reading  different  books  ; — and 
talking." 

"  Reading  ! — So  you  did  read  in  the  backwoods  ?  " 

"  Sir !  "  said  Ellen,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  What  have  you  read  on  this  subject  ?  " 

"  Two  lives  of  Washington,  and  some  in  the  An- 
nual Register,  and  part  of  Graham's  United  States  ; 
and  one  or  two  other  little  things." 

"  But  those  gave  you  only  one  side,  Ellen  ;  you 
should  read  the  English  account  of  the  matter." 

"  So  I  did,  sir  ;  the  Annual  Register  gave  me 
both    sides  ;  the  bills  and  messages  were  enough." 

"  What  Annual  Register  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  : — it  is  English  ; — written  by 
Burke,  I  believe." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  And  what  else  have  you 
read  ? " 

"  I  think  that's  all,  about  America,"  said  Ellen. 

"  No,  but  about  other  things  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  smiling; — • 
"a great  many  books; — I  can't  tell  them  all." 

"  Did  you  spend  all  your  time  over  your  books  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal,  sir,  lately; — not  so  much  be 
fore." 

"  How  was  that  ?  " 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  37^ 

"  I  couldn't,  sir.  I  had  a  great  many  other  things 
to  do." 

"  What  else  had  you  to  do  ?  " 

"  Different  things,"  said  Ellen,  hesitating  from 
the  remembrance  of  her  aunt's  manner  the  night 
before. 

"  Come,  come  !  answer  me." 

11 1  had  to  sweep  and  dust,"  said  Ellen,  coloring, 
— "  and  set  tables, — and  wash  and  wipe  dishes, — 
and  churn, — and  spin, — and " 

Ellen  heard  Lady  Keith's  look  in  her,  "  Could 
you  have  conceived  it  ?  " 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  her  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Lind- 
say ; — "  send  her  to  school  or  keep  her  at  home  ?  " 

"  Have  you  never  been  to  school,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  except  for  a  very  little  while,  more 
than  three  years  ago." 

"Would  you  like  it?" 

"  I  would  a  great  deal  rather  study  at  home,  sir, 
— if  you  will  let  me." 

"  What  do  you  know  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell,  sir,"  said  Ellen  ;— "  I  don't 
know  anything  very  well, — unless " 

"  Unless  what  ?  "  said  her  uncle,  laughing ; — 
"come  !  now  for  your  accomplishments." 

"  I  had  rather  not  say  what  I  was  going  to,  uncle ; 
please,  don't  ask  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he  ; — "  I  sha'n't  let  you  off. 
Unless  what?" 

"  I  was  going  to  say,  unless  riding,"  said  Ellen, 
coloring. 

"  Riding  ! — And  pray  how  did  you  learn  to  ride  ? 
Catch  a  horse  by  the  mane  and  mount  him  by  the 
fence  and  canter  off  bare-backed  ?  was  that  it  ?  eh  ?  " 


370  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Not  exactly,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  laughing. 

"  Well,  but  about  your  other  accomplishments. 
You  do  not  know  anything  of  French,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  ?  " 

"An  old  Swiss  lady  in  the  mountains  taught 
me." 

"  Country  riding,  and  Swiss  French,"  muttered 
her  uncle.     "  Did  she  teach  you  to  speak  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Lindsay  and  his  mother  exchanged  glances, 
which  Ellen  interpreted,  "  Worse  and  worse." 

"  One  thing  at  least  can  be  mended,"  observed 
Mr.  Lindsay.  "  She  shall  go  to  De  Courcy's  rid- 
ing school  as  soon  as  we  get  to  Edinburgh." 

"  Indeed,  uncle,  I  don't  think  that  will  be  neces- 
sary." 

"  Who  taught  you  to  ride,  Ellen  ?  "  asked  Lady 
Keith. 

"  My  brother." 

"  Humph  ! — I  fancy  a  few  lessons  will  do  you  no 
harm,"  she  remarked. 

Ellen  colored  and  was  silent. 

"  You  know  nothing  of  music,  of  course  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  play,  uncle." 

"  Can  you  sing?" 

"  I  can  sing  hymns." 

"  Sing  hymns  ?  That's  the  only  fault  I  find  with 
you,  Ellen, — you  are  too  sober.  I  should  like  to 
see  you  a  little  more  gay, — like  other  children." 

"  But,  uncle,  I  am  not  unhappy  because  I  am 
sober." 

"  But  I  am,"  said  he.  "  I  do  not  know  precisely 
what  I  shall  do  with  you ;  I  must  do  something  I 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  377 

u  Can  you  sing  nothing  but  hymns  ? "  said  Lady 
Keith. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Ellen,  with  some  humor 
twinkling  about  her  eyes  and  mouth, — "  I  can  sing 
1  Hail  Columbia  ! '" 

"  Absurd  !  "  said  Lady  Keith. 

"  Why,  Ellen,"  said  her  uncle,  laughing, — "  I  did 
not  know  you  could  be  so  stubborn  ;  I  thought 
you  were  made  up  of  gentleness  and  mildness. 
Let  me  have  a  good  look  at  you, — there's  not  much 
stubbornness  in  those  eyes,"  he  said,  fondly. 

"  I  hope  you  will  never  salute  my  ears  with  your 
American  ditty,"  said  Lady  Keith. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  "  she  shall  sing 
what  she  pleases,  and  the  more  the  better." 

"  She  has  a  very  sweet  voice,"  said  her  grand- 
mother. 

"  Yes,  in  speaking,  I  know ;  I  have  not  heard  it 
tried  otherwise  ;  and  very  nice  English  it  turns  out. 
Where  did  you  get  your  English,  Ellen  ? " 

"  From  my  brother,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  smile  of 
pleasure. 

Mr.  Lindsay's  brow  rather  clouded. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  The  brother  of  the  lady  that  was  so  kind  to  me." 
Ellen  disliked  to  speak  the  loved  names  in  the 
hearing  of  ears  to  which  she  knew  they  would  be 
unlovely. 

"  How  was  she  so  kind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir  ! — in  everything — I  cannot  tell  you ; — 
she  was  my  friend  when  I  had  only  one  beside  j 
she  did  everything  for  me." 

"  And  who  was  the  other  friend  ?  your  aunt  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 


378  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WO  RID. 

"  This  brother  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  that  was  before  I  knew  him/* 

"  Who,  then  ?  " 

"  His  name  was  Mr.  Van  Brunt." 

"Van  Brunt ! — Humph  ! — And  what  was  he  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  farmer,  sir." 

"  A  Dutch  farmer,  eh  ?  how  came  you  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  him  I  " 

"  He  managed  my  aunt's  farm,  and  was  a  great 
deal  in  the  house." 

"  He  was  !  And  what  makes  you  call  this  other 
your  brother  ?  " 

"  His  sister  called  me  her  sister — and  that  makes 
me  his." 

'•  It  is  very  absurd,"  said  Lady  Keith,  "  when 
they  are  nothing  at  all  to  her,  and  ought  not  to 
be." 

"  It  seems,  then,  you  did  not  find  a  friend  in 
your  aunt,  Ellen  ? — eh  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  loved  me  much,"  said  Ellen 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  am  very  glad  we  are  clear  of  obligation  on  her 
score,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  Obligation  ! — and  so  you  had  nothing  else  to 
depend  on,  Ellen,  but  this  man — this  Van  some- 
thing— this  Dutchman  ?  what  did  he  do  for  you?  " 

"  A  great  deal,  sir  ;  " — Ellen  would  have  said 
more,  but  a  feeling  in  her  throat  stopped  her. 

"  Now  just  hear  that,  will  you  ? "  said  Lady 
Keith.  "  Just  think  of  her  in  that  farm-house,  with 
that  sweeping  and  dusting  woman  and  a  Dutch 
farmer,  for  these  three  years  !  " 

"No,"  said  Ellen, — "not  all  the  time  ;  this  last 
year  I  have  been " 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 


379 


"Where,  Ellen?" 

"  At  the  other  house,  sir." 

"  What  house  is  that  ?  " 

"  Where  that  lady  and  gentleman  lived  that  were 
my  best  friends." 

"Well,  it's  all  very  well,"  said  Lady  Keith,— 
"  but  it  is  past  now  ;  it  is  all  over  ;  you  need  not 
think  of  them  any  more.  We  will  find  you  better 
friends  than  any  of  these  Dutch  Brunters  or 
Grunters." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Keith!"  said  Ellen, — "if  you  knew 
"     But  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  taking  her  in 
his  arms, — "  I  will  not  have  that.  Hush,  my 
daughter.     What  is  the  matter,  Ellen  ?  " 

But  Ellen  had  with  some  difficulty  contained  her- 
self two  or  three  times  before  in  the  course  of  the 
conversation,  and  she  wept  now  rather  violently. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Because,"  sobbed  Ellen,  thoroughly  roused, — 
"  I  love  them  dearly  !  and  I  ought  to  love  them 
with  all  my  heart.  I  cannot  forget  them,  and  never 
shall ;  and  I  can  never  have  better  friends — never  ! 
— it's  impossible — oh,  it's  impossible." 

Mr.  Lindsay  said  nothing  at  first  except  to  soothe 
her ;  but  when  she  had  wept  herself  into  quiet- 
ness upon  his  breast,  he  whispered, 

"  It  is  right  to  love  these  people  if  they  were 
kind  to  you,  but,  as  your  aunt  says,  that  is  past. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  go  back  to  it.  Forget  that 
you  were  American,  Ellen, — you  belong  to  me; 
your  name  is  not  Montgomery  any  more, — it  is 
Lindsay; — and  I  will  not  have  you  call  me  'uncle' 
—I  am  your  father  ; — you  are  my  own  little  daugh* 


380  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

ter,  and  must  do  precisely  what  I  tell  you.  Do 
you  understand  me  ?  " 

He  would  have  a  "  yes "  from  her,  and  then 
added,  "  Go  and  get  yourself  ready,  and  I  will  take 
you  with  me  to  Edinburgh." 

Ellen's  tears  had  been  like  to  burst  forth  again 
at  his  words ;  with  great  effort  she  controlled  her- 
self and  obeyed  him. 

"  I  shall  do  precisely  what  he  tells  me,  of  course," 
she  said  to  herself,  as  she  went  to  get  ready ; — "  but 
there  are  some  things  he  cannot  command  ;  nor  I 
neither  ; — I  am  glad  of  that !     Forget  indeed  !  " 

She  could  not  help  loving  her  uncle ;  for  the  lips 
that  kissed  her  were  very  kind  as  well  as  very  per- 
emptory ;  and  if  the  hand  that  pressed  her  cheek 
was,  as  she  felt  it  was,  the  hand  of  power,  its  touch 
was  also  exceeding  fond.  And  as  she  was  no 
more  inclined  to  dispute  his  will  than  he  to  permit 
it,  the  harmony  between  them  was  perfect  and  un- 
broken. 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Bear  a  lily  in  thy  hand  ; 

Gates  of  brass  cannot  withstand 

One  touch  of  that  magic  wand. 

Longfellow. 

Mr.  Lindsay  had  some  reason  that  morning  to 
wish  that  Ellen  would  look  merrier  ;  it  was  a  very 
sober  little  face  he  saw  by  his  side  as  the  carriage 
rolled  smoothly  on  with  them  towards  Edinburgh  ; 
almost  pale  in  its  sadness.  He  lavished  the  ten- 
derest  kindness  upon  her,  and  without  going  back 
by  so  much  as  a  hint  to  the  subjects  of  the  morn- 
ing, he  exerted  himself  to  direct  her  attention  to 
the  various  objects  of  note  and  interest  they  were 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  381 

passing.  The  day  was  fine,  and  the  country,  also 
the  carriage  and  the  horses  ;  Ellen  was  dearly  fond 
of  driving  ;  and  long  before  they  reached  the  city 
Mr.  Lindsay  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her 
smile  break  again,  her  eye  brighten,  and  her  happy 
attention  fixing  on  the  things  he  pointed  out  to 
her,  and  many  others  that  she  found  for  herself  on 
the  way, — his  horses  first  of  all.  Mr.  Lindsay 
might  relax  his  efforts  and  look  on  with  secret 
triumph  ;  Ellen  was  in  the  full  train  of  delighted 
observation. 

"  You  are  easily  pleased,  Ellen,"  he  said,  in  an- 
swer to  one  of  her  simple  remarks  of  admiration. 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  to  please  me,"  said  Ellen, 

"  What  would  you  like  to  see  in  Edinburgh  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  ;  anything  you  please." 

"  Then  I  will  show  you  a  little  of  the  city  in  the 
first  place." 

They  drove  through  the  streets  of  Edinburgh, 
both  the  Old  and  the  New  Town,  in  various  direc- 
tions ;  Mr.  Lindsay  extremely  pleased  to  see  that 
Ellen  was  so,  and  much  amused  at  the  curiosity 
shown  in  her  questions,  which,  however,  were  by 
no  means  as  free  and  frequent  as  they  might  have 
been  had  John  Humphreys  filled  her  uncle's 
place. 

"  What  large  building  is  that  over  there  ?  "  said 
Ellen. 

"That?— that  is  Holyrood  House." 

"  Holyrood  ! — I  have  heard  of  that  before  ; — 
isn't  that  where  Queen  Mary's  rooms  are  ?  where 
Rizzio  was  killed  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  would  you  like  to  see  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  much  !  " 


382  fJStJS  W 'IDE,  WIDE   h  uk ED. 

"  Drive  to  the  Abbey. — So  you  have  read  Scot- 
tish history  as  well  as  American,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Not  very  much,  sir ;  only  the  Tales  of  a  Grand* 
father  yet  But  what  made  me  say  that, — I  have 
read  an  account  of  Holyrood  House  somewhere. 
Uncle " 

"  Ellen  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ; — I  forgot ; — it  seems 
strange  to  me,"  said  Ellen,  looking  distressed. 

"  It  must  not  seem  strange  to  you,  my  daughter ; 
what  were  you  going  to  say  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir, — oh,  I  was  going  to  ask  if 
the  silver  cross  is  here  now,  to  be  seen  ? " 

"  What  silver  cross  ?  " 

"  That  one  from  which  the  Abbey  was  named, 
sir, — the  silver  rood  that  was  given,  they  pretended, 
to — I  forget  now  what  king " 

"David  First,  the  founder  of  the  Abbey?  No, 
it  is  not  here,  Ellen  ;  David  the  Second  lost  it  to 
the  English.  But  why  do  you  say pretended,  Ellen  ? 
It  was  a  very  real  affair  ;  kept  in  England  for  a 
long  time  with  great  veneration." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  I  know  the  cross  was  real  ; — I 
mean,  it  was  pretended  that  an  angel  gave  it  to 
King  David  when  he  was  hunting  here." 

"  Well,  how  can  you  tell  but  that  was  so  ?  King 
David  was  made  a  saint,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  I  know  better 
than  that ;   I  know  it  was  only  a  monkish  trick." 

"  Monkish  trick  !  which  do  you  mean  ?  the  giving 
of  the  cross,  or  the  making  the  king  a  saint  ? " 

"  Both,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  still  smiling. 

"  At  that  rate,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  much  amused, 
"  if  you  are  such  a  skeptic,  you  will  take  no  com- 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD  383 

fort  in  anything  at  the  Abbey  ; — you  will  not  be- 
lieve anything  is  genuine." 

"  I  will  believe  what  you  tell  me,  sir." 

"  Will  you  ?  I  must  be  careful  what  I  say  to 
you  then,  or  I  may  run  the  risk  of  losing  my  own 
credit." 

Mr.  Lindsay  spoke  this  half  jestingly,  half  in 
earnest.     They  went  over  the  palace. 

"  Is  this  very  old,  sir  ?  "  asked  Ellen. 

"  Not  very ;  it  has  been  burnt  and  demolished 
and  rebuilt  till  nothing  is  left  of  the  old  Abbey  of 
King  David  but  the  ruins  of  the  chapel,  which 
you  shall  see  presently.  The  oldest  part  of  the 
House  is  that  we  are  going  to  see  now,  built  by 
James  Fifth,  Mary's  father,  where  her  rooms  are." 

At  these  rooms  Ellen  looked  with  intense  in- 
terest. She  pored  over  the  old  furniture,  the 
needlework  of  which  she  was  told  was  at  least  in 
part  the  work  of  the  beautiful  Queen's  own  fin- 
gers ;  gazed  at  the  stains  in  the  floor  of  the  bed- 
chamber, said  to  be  those  of  Rizzio's  blood ;  med- 
itated over  the  trap-door  in  the  passage,  by  which 
the  conspirators  had  come  up  ;  and  finally  sat  down 
in  the  room  and  tried  to  realize  the  scene  which 
had  once  been  acted  there.  She  tried  to  imagine 
the  poor  Queen  and  her  attendant  and  her  favorite 
Rizzio  sitting  there  at  supper,  and  how  that  door, — 
that  very  door, — had  opened,  and  Ruthven's  ghastly 
figure,  pale  and  weak  from  illness,  presented  it- 
self, and  then  others ;  the  alarm  of  the  moment ; 
how  Rizzio  knew  they  were  come  for  him  and 
fled  to  the  Queen  for  protection  ;  how  she  was 
withheld  from  giving  it,  and  the  unhappy  man 
pulled  away  from  her  and  stabbed  with  a  great  many 


384  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

wounds  before  her  face ;  and  there,  there ! — na 
doubt,— his  blood  fell  ! "    • 

"  You  are  tired  ;  this  doesn't  please  you  much," 
said  Mr.  Lindsay,  noticing  her  grave  look. 

"  Oh,  it  pleases  me  very  much  !  "  said  Ellen, 
starting  up ; — "  I  do  not  wonder  she  swore  ven- 
geance." 

"  Who  ? "  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  laughing. 

"  Queen  Mary,  sir." 

"  Were  you  thinking  of  her  all  this  while  ?  I 
am  glad  of  it.  I  spoke  to  you  once  without  get- 
ting a  word.  I  was  afraid  this  was  not  amusing 
enough  to  detain  your  thoughts." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  have  been 
trying  to  think  about  all  that.  I  like  to  look  at  old 
things  very  much." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  the  Regalia." 

"  The  what,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  Royal  things — the  old  diadem  and  scepter, 
etc.,  of  the  Scottish  kings.  Well,  come,"  said  he, 
as  he  read  the  answer  in  Ellen's  face, — "  we  will 
go ;  but  first  let  us  see  the  old  chapel." 

With  this  Ellen  was  wonderfully  pleased.  This 
was  much  older  still  than  Queen  Mary's  rooms. 
Ellen  admired  the  wild  melancholy  look  of  the 
gothic  pillars  and  arches  springing  from  the  green 
turf,  the  large  carved  window  empty  of  glass,  the 
broken  walls  ; — and  looking  up  to  the  blue  sky, 
she  tried  to  imagine  the  time  when  the  gothic  roof 
closed  overhead,  and  music  sounded  through  the 
arches,  and  trains  of  stoled  monks  paced  among 
them,  where  now  the  very  pavement  was  not. 
Strange  it  seemed,  and  hard,  to  go  back  and  re- 
alize it ;  but  in  the  midst  of  this,  the  familiar  face 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  385 

of  the  sky  set  Ellen's  thoughts  off  upon  a  new 
track,  and  suddenly  they  were  at  home, — on  the 
lawn  before  the  parsonage.  The  monks  and  the 
Abbey  were  forgotten ;  she  silently  gave  her  hand 
to  her  uncle  and  walked  with  him  to  the  carriage. 

Arrived  at  the  Crown  Room,  Ellen  fell  into  an- 
other fit  of  grave  attention ;  but  Mr.  Lindsay, 
taught  better,  did  not  this  time  mistake  rapt  inter- 
est for  absence  of  mind.  He  answered  questions 
and  gave  her  several  pieces  of  information,  and  let 
her  take  her  own  time  to  gaze  and  meditate. 

"  This  beautiful  sword,"  said  he,  "was  a  present 
from  Pope  Julius  Second  to  James  Fourth." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  Popes,"  said 
Ellen.  "  James  Fourth  ?— I  forget  what  kind  of  a 
king  he  was." 

"  He  was  a  very  good  king  ;— he  was  the  one 
that  died  at  Flodden." 

"  Oh,  and  wore  an  iron  girdle  because  he  had 
fought  against  his  father, — poor  man  !  " 

"  Why  '  poor  man,'  Ellen  ?  he  was  a  very  royal 
prince  ;  why  do  you  say  '  poor  man  '  ?  " 

V  Because  he  didn't  know  any  better,  sir." 

"  Didn't  know  any  better  than  what  ?  " 

"  Than  to  think  an  iron  girdle  would  do  him  any 
good." 

"  But  why  wouldn't  it  do  him  any  good  ?  " 

"  Because,  you  know,  sir,  that  is  not  the  way  we 
can  have  our  sins  forgiven." 

"  What  is  the  way  ? " 

Ellen  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  was  in  jest  or 
earnest.  Her  look  staggered  him  a  little,  but  he 
repeated  his  question.  She  cast  her  eyes  down 
and  answer*** 


386  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"Jesus  Christ  said,  'I  am  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life  ;  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but 
by  Me.'  " 

Mr.  Lindsay  said  no  more. 

"  I  wish  that  was  the  Bruce's  crown,"  said  Ellen 
after  a  while.  "-I  should  like  to  see  anything  that 
belonged  to  him." 

"  I'll  take  you  to  the  field  of  Bannockburn  some 
day  ;  that  belonged  to  him  with  a  vengeance.  It 
lies  over  yonder." 

"  Bannockburn  !  will  you  ?  and  Stirling  Castle ! 
—Oh,  how  I  should  like  that !  " 

"  Stirling  Castle,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  smiling  at 
Ellen's  clasped  hands  of  delight, — "  what  do  you 
know  of  Stirling  Castle  ? " 

"  From  the  history,  you  know,  sir  ;  and  the  Lord 
of  the  Isles  ; — 

"  '  Old  Stirling's  towers  arose  in  light — '  " 

"Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  '  And  twined  in  links  of  silver  bright 
Her  winding  river  lay.'  " 

"  That's  this  same  river  Forth,  Ellen.  Do  you 
know  any  more  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  Go  on  and  tell  me  all  you  can  remember." 

"  All;  that  would  be  a  great  deal,  sir." 

"  Go  on  till  I  tell  you  to  stop." 

Ellen  gave  him  a  good  part  of  the  battle,  with 
the  introduction  to  it. 

"  You  have  a  good  memory,  Ellen,"  he  said,  look- 
ing pleased. 

"  Because  I  like  it,  sir ;  that  makes  it  easy  to 
remember.     I  like  the  Scots  people." 


trIE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  387 

"  Do  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  much  gratified ; — 
"  I  did  not  know  ybu  liked  anything  on  this  side  of 
the  water.     Why  do  you  like  them  ?  " 

"  Because  they  never  would  be  conquered  by  the 
English." 

"  So,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  half  amused  and  half 
disappointed, — "  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  you 
like  them  because  they  fought  the  enemies  you 
were  so  eager  to  have  a  blow  at." 

'*  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  laughing,  "  I  do  not 
mean  that  at  all ;  the  French  were  England's 
enemies  too,  and  helped  us  besides,  but  I  like  the 
Scots  a  great  deal  better  than  the  French.  I  like 
them  because  they  would  be  free." 

"  You  have  an  extraordinary  taste  for  freedom  S 
And  pray,  are  all  the  American  children  as  strong 
republicans  as  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  ;   I  hope  so." 

"  Pretty  well,  upon  my  word  ! — Then  I  suppose 
even  the  Bruce  cannot  rival  your  favorite  Washing- 
ton in  your  esteem  ?  " 

Ellen  smiled. 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  I  like  Washington  better,  sir,  of  course  ;  but  I 
like  Bruce  very  much." 

"  Why  do  you  prefer  Washington  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  to  think  to  tell  you  that,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  think,  and  answer  me." 

"  One  reason,  I  suppose,  is  because  he  was  an 
American,"  said  Ellen. 

"  That  is  not  reason  enough  for  so  reasonable  a 
person  as  you  are,  Ellen  ;  you  must  try  again,  or 
give  up  your  preference." 

"  I  like  Bruce,   very   much   indeed,"  said  Ellen, 


388  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

musingly, — "  but  he  did  what  he  did  for  himself, — 
Washington  didn't." 

"  Humph  ! — I  am  not  quite  sure  as  to  either  of 
your  positions,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  And  besides,"  said  Ellen,  "  Bruce  did  one  or 
two  wrong  things.     Washington  always  did  right." 

"  He  did,  eh  ?  What  do  you  think  of  the  murdei 
of  Andre  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  right,"  said  Ellen,  firmly. 

"  Your  reasons,  my  little  reasoner  ? " 

"  If  it  had  not  been  right,  Washington  would  not 
have  done  it." 

"  Ha !  ha  ! — So  at  that  rate  you  may  reconcile 
yourself  to  anything  that  chances  to  be  done  by  a 
favorite." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  a  little  confused,  but 
standing  her  ground, — "  but  when  a  person  always 
does  right,  if  he  happen  to  do  something  that  I 
don't  know  enough  to  understand,  I  have  good 
reason  to  think  it  is  right,  even  though  I  cannot 
understand  it." 

"  Very  well  !  but  apply  the  same  rule  of  judg- 
ment to  the  Bruce,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  make  me  think  the  murder  of 
the  Red  Comyn  right,  sir.  Bruce  didn't  think  so 
himself." 

"  But  remember,  there  is  a  great  difference  in  the 
times  ;  those  were  rude  and  uncivilized  compared 
to  these ;  you  must  make  allowance  for  that." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do  ;  but  I  like  the  civilized  times  best." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  fellow  over  here, — 
what's  his  name? — whose  monument  I  was  show- 
ing you, — Nelson  !  " 

"  I  used  to  like  him  very  much,  sir." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  38a 

u  And  you  do  not  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do  ;  I  cannot  help  liking  him." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  would  if  you  could  ? " 

"  I  don't  think,  sir,  I  ought  to  like  a  man  merely 
for  being  great,  unless  he  was  good.  Washington 
was  great  and  good  both." 

"  Well,  what  is  the  matter  with  Nelson  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Lindsay,  with  an  expression  of  intense  amuse- 
ment ; — "  I  '  used  to  think,'  as  you  say,  that  he 
was  a  very  noble  fellow." 

"  So  he  was,  sir  ;  but  he  wasn't  a  good  man." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know,  sir,  he  left  his  wife  ;  and  Lady 
Hamilton  persuaded  him  to  do  one  or  two  other 
very  dishonorable  things  ;  it  was  a  great  pity !  " 

"  So  you  will  not  like  any  great  man  that  is  not 
good  as  well.  WThat  is  your  definition  of  a  good 
man,  Ellen  ? " 

"One  who  always  does  right,  because  it  is  right, 
no  matter  whether  it  is  convenient  or  not,"  said 
Ellen,  after  a  little  hesitation. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  draw  the  line  close.  But 
opinions  often  differ  as  to  what  is  right ;  how  shall 
we  know  ?  " 

"  From  the  Bible,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  quickly,  with 
a  look  that  half  amused  and  half  abashed  him. 

"  And  you,  Ellen, — are  you  yourself  good  after 
this  nice  fashion  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  wish  to  be." 

"  I  do  believe  that.  But,  after  all,  Ellen,  you 
might  like  Nelson  ;  those  were  the  only  spots  in 
the  sun." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  can  a  man  be  a  truly  great  man 
who  is  not  master  of  himself  ? " 


39° 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WOPT-D* 


"  That  is  an  excellent  remark."' 

"  It  is  not  mine,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  blushing ;  "  it 
was  told  me ;  I  did  not  find  out  all  that  about 
Nelson  myself  ;  I  did  not  see  it  all  the  first  time  I 
read  his  life  ;  I  thought  he  was  perfect." 

"  I  know  who  /  think  is,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, 
kissing  her. 

They  drove  now  to  his  house  in  George  Street. 
Mr.  Lindsay  had  some  business  to  attend  to,  and 
would  leave  her  there  for  an  hour  or  two.  And 
that  their  fast  might  not  be  too  long  unbroken, 
Mrs.  Allen  the  housekeeper  was  directed  to  furnish 
them  with  some  biscuits  in  the  library,  whither  Mr. 
Lindsay  led  Ellen. 

She  liked  the  looks  of  it  very  much.  Plenty  of 
books  ;  old-looking,  comfortable  furniture  ;  pleasant 
light ;  all  manner  of  etceteras  around  which  rejoiced 
Ellen's  heart.  Mr.  Lindsay  noticed  her  pleased 
glance  passing  from  one  thing  to  another.  He 
placed  her  in  a  deep  easy-chair,  took  off  her  bonnet 
and  threw  it  on  the  sofa,  and  kissing  her  fondly 
asked  her  if  she  felt  at  home.  "  Not  yet,"  Ellen 
said ;  but  her  look  also  said  ii;  would  not  take  long 
to  make  her  do  so.  She  sat  enjoying  her  rest,  and 
munching  her  biscuits  with  great  appetite  and  satis- 
faction, when  Mr.  Lindsay  poured  her  out  a  glass 
of  sweet  wine. 

That  glass  of  wine  looked  to  Ellen  like  an  enemy 
marching  up  to  attack  her.  Because  Alice  and 
John  did  not  drink  it,  she  had  always,  at  first  with- 
out other  reason,  done  the  same  ;  and  she  was 
determined  not  to  forsake  their  example  now.  She 
took  no  notice  of  the  glass  of  wine,  though  she  had 
ceased  to  see  anything  else  in  the  room,  and  went 


THE  WIDE.    WIDE  WORLD. 


391 


on,  seemingly  as  before,  eating  her  biscuits,  though 
she  no  longer  knew  how  they  tasted. 

"  Why  don't  you  drink  your  wine,  Ellen  ? " 

"  I  do  not  wish  any,  sir." 

"  Don't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir ;  I  have  never  drunk  any." 

"  No  !     Taste  it  and  see." 

"  I  would  rather  not,  sir,  if  you  please.  I  don't 
care  for  it." 

"  Taste  it,  Ellen  !  " 

This  command  was  not  to  be  disobeyed.  The 
blood  rushed  to  Ellen's  temples  as  she  just  touched 
the  glass  to  her  lips,  and  set  it  down  again. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  What,  sir  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  like  it  ? " 

"  I  like  it  very  well,  sir,  but  I  would  rather  not 
drink  it." 

"  Why  ? " 

Ellen  colored  again  at  this  exceedingly  difficult 
question,  and  answered  as  well  as  she  could,  that 
she  had  never  been  accustomed  to  it,  and  would 
rather  not. 

"  It  is  of  no  sort  of  consequence  what  you  have 
been  accustomed  to,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay.  "  You 
are  to  drink  it  all,  Ellen." 

Ellen  dared  not  disobey.  When  biscuits  and 
wine  were  disposed  of,  Mr.  Lindsay  drew  her  close 
to  his  side  and  encircling  her  fondly  with  his  arms, 
said, 

"  I  shall  leave  you  now  for  an  hour  or  two,  and 
you  must  amuse  yourself  as  you  can.  The  book- 
cases are  open — perhaps  you  can  find  something 
there ;  or  there  are  prints  in  those  portfolios ;  ol 


392 


THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 


you  can  go  over  the  house  and  make  yourself  ac 
quainted  with  your  new  home.  If  you  want  any- 
thing ask  Mrs.  Allen.  Does  it  look  pleasant  to  you  ?  " 

"  Very,"  Ellen  said. 

"  You  are  at  home  here,  daughter  ;  go  where  you 
will  and  do  what  you  will.  I  shall  not  leave  you 
long.  But  before  I  go — Ellen— let  me  hear  you 
call  me  father." 

Ellen  obeyed,  trembling,  for  it  seemed  to  her 
that  it  was  to  set  her  hand  and  seal  to  the  deed  of 
gift  her  father  and  mother  had  made.  But  there 
was  no  retreat ;  it  was  spoken  ;  and  Mr.  Lindsay, 
folding  her  close  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  again  and 
again. 

"  Never  let  me  hear  you  call  me  anything  else, 
Ellen.  You  are  mine  own  now — my  own  child — 
my  own  little  daughter.  You  shall  do  just  what 
pleases  me  in  everything,  and  let  by-gones  be  by- 
gones. And  now  lie  down  there  and  rest,  daughter, 
you  are  trembling  from  head  to  foot ; — rest  and 
amuse  yourself  in  any  way  you  like  till  I  return." 

He  left  the  room. 

"  I  have  done  it  now  !  "  thought  Ellen,  as  she 
sat  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa  where  Mr.  Lindsay 
had  tenderly  placed  her  ; — "  I  have  called  him  my 
father — I  am  bound  to  obey  him  after  this.  I 
wonder  what  in  the  world  they  will  make  me  do 
next.  If  he  chooses  to  make  me  drink  wine  every 
day,  I  must  do  it ! — I  cannot  help  myself.  That 
is  only  a  little  matter.  But  what  if  they  were  to 
want  me  to  do  something  wrong  ? — they  might ; — ■ 
John  never  did — I  could  not  have  disobeyed  him, 
possibly  ! — but  I  could  them,  if  it  was  necessary, — 
and  if  it   is   necessary,  I   will ! — I   should  have  a 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  393 

dreadful  time — I  wonder  if  I  could  go  through  with 
it.  Oh,  yes,  I  could,  if  it  was  right, — and  besides 
I  would  rather  bear  anything  in  the  world  from 
them  than  have  John  displeased  with  me  ; — a  great 
deal  rather !  But  perhaps  after  all  they  will  not 
want  anything  wrong  of  me.  I  wonder  if  this  is 
really  to  be  my  home  always,  and  if  I  shall  never  get 
home  again  ? — John  will  not  leave  me  here  ! — but  I 
don't  see  how  in  the  world  he  can  help  it,  for  my 
father  and  my  mother,  and  I  myself — I  know  what 
he  would  tell  me  if  he  was  here,  and  I'll  try  to  do  it. 
God  will  take  care  of  me  if  I  follow  Him  ;  it  is  none 
of  my  business." 

Simply  and  heartily  commending  her  interests 
to  His  keeping,  Ellen  tried  to  lay  aside  the  care  of 
herself.  She  went  on  musing ;  how  very  different 
and  how  much  greater  her  enjoyment  would  have 
been  that  day  if  John  had  been  with  her.  Mr. 
Linsday,  to  be  sure,  had  answered  her  questions 
with  abundant  kindness  and  sufficient  ability  ;  but 
his  answers  did  not,  as  those  of  her  brother  often 
did,  skillfully  draw  her  on  from  one  thing  to  another, 
till  a  train  of  thought  was  opened  which  at  the 
setting  out  she  never  dreamed  of ;  and  along  with 
the  joy  of  acquiring  new  knowledge  she  had  the 
pleasure  of  discovering  new  fields  of  it  to  be  ex- 
plored, and  the  delight  of  the  felt  exercise  and  en- 
largement of  her  own  powers,  which  were  sure  to 
be  actively  called  into  play.  Mr.  Lindsay  told  her 
what  she  asked,  and  there  left  her.  Ellen  found 
herself  growing  melancholy  over  the  comparison  she 
was  drawing  ;  and  wisely  went  to  the  bookcases  to 
divert  her  thoughts.  Finding  presently  a  history 
of  Scotland,  she  took  it  down,  resolving  to  refresh 


394  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

her  memory  on  a  subject  which  had  gained  such 
new  and  strange  interest  for  her.  Before  long, 
however,  fatigue  and  the  wine  she  had  drunk 
effectually  got  the  better  of  studious  thoughts  ;  she 
stretched  herself  on  the  sofa  and  fell   fast   asleep. 

There  Mr.  Lindsay  found  her  a  couple  of  hours 
afterwards  under  the  guard  of  the  housekeeper. 

"I  came  in,  sir,"  she  said,  whispering, — "it's 
mair  than  an  hour  back,  and  she's  been  sleep- 
ing just  like  a  babby  ever  syne  ;  she  hasna  stirred  a 
finger.  Oh,  Mr.  Lindsay,  it's  a  bonny  bairn,  and 
a  gude.     What  a  blessing  to  the  house  ! " 

"  You're  about  right  there,  I  believe,  Maggie ; 
but  how  have  you  learned  it  so  fast  ? " 

"  I  canna  be  mista'en,  Mr.  George, — I  ken  it  as 
weel  as  if  we  had  had  a  year  auld  acquentance  ;  I 
ken  it  by  thae  sweet  mouth  and  een,  and  by  the 
look  she  gied  me  when  you  tauld  her,  sir,  I  had 
been  in  the  house  near  as  lang's  yoursel'.  An' 
look  at  her  eenow.  There's  heaven's  peace  within, 
I'm  a'maist  assured." 

The  kiss  that  wakened  Ellen  found  her  in  the 
midst  of  a  dream.  She  thought  that  John  was  a 
king  of  Scotland,  and  standing  before  her  in  regal 
attire.  She  offered  him,  she  thought,  a  glass  of 
wine,  but  raising  the  sword  of  state,  silver  scabbard 
and  all,  he  with  a  tremendous  swing  of  it  dashed 
the  glass  out  of  her  hands  ;  and  then,  as  she  stood 
abashed,  he  bent  forward  with  one  of  his  old  grave 
kind  looks  to  kiss  her.  As  the  kiss  touched  her 
lips  Ellen  opened  her  eyes,  to  find  her  brother 
transformed  into  Mr.  Lindsay,  and  the  empty  glass 
standing  safe  and  sound  upon  the  table. 

"  You  must  have  had  a  pleasant  nap,"  said  Mr. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


395 


Lindsay,  "  you  wake  up  smiling.  Come — make 
haste — I  have  left  a  friend  in  the  carriage. — Bring 
your  book  along  if  you  want  it." 

The  presence  of  the  stranger,  who  was  going 
down  to  spend  a  day  or  two  at  "  The  Braes,"  pre- 
vented Ellen  from  having  any  talking  to  do.  Com- 
fortably placed  in  the  corner  of  the  front  seat  of 
the  barouche,  leaning  on  the  elbow  of  the  carriage, 
she  was  left  to  her  own  musings.  She  could  hardly 
realize  the  change  in  her  circumstances.  The 
carriage  rolling  fast  and  smoothly  on — the  two 
gentlemen  opposite  to  her,  one  her  father ! — the 
strange,  varied,  beautiful  scenes  they  were  flitting 
by, — the  long  shadows  made  by  the  descending 
sun, — the  cool  evening  air,— Ellen,  leaning  back  in 
the  wide  easy  seat,  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a  dream. 
It  was  singularly  pleasant ;  she  could  not  help  but 
enjoy  it  all  very  much  ;  and  yet  it  seemed  to  her 
as  if  she  were  caught  in  a  net  from  which  she  had 
no  power  to  get  free  ;  and  she  longed  to  clasp  that 
hand  that  could,  she  thought,  draw  her  whence  and 
whither  it  pleased.  "  But  Mr.  Lindsay  opposite  ? 
— I  have  called  him  my  father — I  have  given  my- 
self to  him,"  she  thought ; — "  but  I  gave  myself  to 
somebody  else  first ; — I  can't  undo  that — and  I 
never  will !  "  Again  she  tried  to  be  quiet  and 
resign  the  care  of  herself  to  better  wisdom  and 
greater  strength  than  her  own.  "  This  may  all  be 
arranged,  easily,  in  some  way  I  could  never  dream 
of,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  I  have  no  business  to 
be  uneasy.  Two  months  ago,  and  I  was  quietly  at 
home  and  seemed  to  be  fixed  there  forever ;  and 
now,  and  without  anything  extraordinary  happening, 
here  I  am, — just  as  fixed.     Yes,  and  before  that,  at 


396  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Aunt  Fortune's, — it  didn't  seem  possible  that  I  could 
ever  get  away  from  being  her  child  ;  and  yet  how 
easily  all  that  was  managed.  And  just  so,  in  some 
way  that  I  cannot  imagine,  things  may  open  so  as  to 
let  me  out  smoothly  from  this."  She  resolved  to  be 
patient,  and  take  thankfully  what  she  at  present 
had  to  enjoy ;  and  in  this  mood  of  mind,  the  drive 
home  was  beautiful ;  and  the  evening  was  happily 
absorbed  in  the  history  of  Scotland. 

It  was  a  grave  question  in  the  family  that  same 
evening  whether  Ellen  should  be  sent  to  school. 
Lady  Keith  was  decidedly  in  favor  of  it ;  her  mother 
seemed  doubtful ;  Mr.  Lindsay,  who  had  a  vision 
of  the  little  figure  lying  asleep  on  his  library  sofa, 
thought  the  room  had  never  looked  so  cheerful  be- 
fore, and  had  near  made  up  his  mind  that  she 
should  be  its  constant  adornment  the  coming  winter. 
Lady  Keith  urged  the  school  plan. 

"  Not  a  boarding-school,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay  ; — ■ 
"  I  will  not  hear  of  that." 

"  No,  but  a  day-school ;  it  would  do  her  a  vast 
deal  of  good  I  am  certain  ;  her  notions  want  shak- 
ing up  very  much.  And  I  never  saw  a  child  of 
her  age  so  much  a  child." 

"  I  assure  you  /  never  saw  one  so  much  a 
woman.  She  has  asked  me  to-day,  I  suppose," 
said  he,  smiling,  "  a  hundred  questions  or  less ; 
and  I  assure  you  there  was  not  one  foolish  or  vain 
one  among  them  ;  not  one  that  was  not  sensible, 
and  most  of  them  singularly  so." 

"  She  was  greatly  pleased  with  her  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  baby  face  in  my  life,"  said 
Lady  Keith, — "  in  a  child  of  her  years." 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


397 


"  It  is  a  face  of  uncommon  intelligence !  "  said 
her  brother. 

"  It  is  both,"  said  Mrs.   Lindsay. 

"  I  was  struck  with  it  the  other  day,"  said  Lady 
Keith — "  the  day  she  slept  so  long  upon  the  sofa 
upstairs  after  she  was  dressed ;  she  had  been  cry- 
ing about  something,  and  her  eyelashes  were  wet 
still,  and  she  had  that  curious  grave  innocent  look 
you  only  see  in  infants  ;  you  might  have  thought 
she  was  fourteen  months  instead  of  fourteen  years 
old ;  fourteen  and   a  half,  she  says  she  is." 

"  Crying?"  said  Mr.  Lindsay  ;— "  what  was  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay,  "  but  that  she 
had  been  obliged  to  submit  to  me  in  something 
that  did  not  please  her." 

"  Did  she  give  you  any  cause  of  displeasure  ?  " 

"  No, — though  I  can  see  she  has  strong  passions. 
But  she  is  the  first  child  I  ever  saw  that  I  think  I 
could  not  get  angry  with." 

"  Mother's  heart  half  misgave  her,  I  believe," 
said  Lady  Keith,  laughing ; — "  she  sat  there  look- 
ing at  her  for  an  hour." 

"  She  seems  to  me  perfectly  gentle  and  sub- 
missive," said  Mr.   Lindsay. 

"  Yes,  but  don't  trust  too  much  to  appearances," 
said  his  sister.  "  If  she  is  not  a  true  Lindsay  after 
all  I  am  mistaken.  Did  you  see  her  color  once  or 
twice  this  morning  when  something  was  said  that 
did  not  please  her  ? " 

"  You  can  judge  nothing  from  that,"  said  Mr. 
Lindsay, — "  she  colors  at  everything.  You  should 
have  seen  her  to-day  when  I  told  her  I  would  take 
her  to  Bannockburn." 


398  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Ah,  she  has  got  the  right  side  of  you,  brother; 
you  will  be  able  to  discern  no  faults  in  her  pres- 
ently." 

"  She  has  used  no  arts  for  it,  sister  ;  she  is  a 
straightforward  little  hussy,  and  that  is  one  thing  I 
like  about  her  ;  though  I  was  as  near  as  possible 
being  provoked  with  her  once  or  twice  to-day. 
There  is  only  one  thing  I  wish  was  altered, — she  has 
her  head  filled  with  strange  notions — absurd  for  a 
child  of  her  age — I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  to 
get  rid  of  them." 

After  some  conversation  it  was  decided  that 
school  would  be  the  best  thing  for  this  end,  and 
half  decided  that  Ellen  should  go. 

But  this  half  decision  Mr.  Lindsay  found  it  very 
difficult  to  keep  to,  and  circumstances  soon 
destroyed  it  entirely.  Company  was  constantly 
coming  and  going  at  "  The  Braes,"  and  much  of  it 
of  a  kind  that  Ellen  exceedingly  liked  to  see  and 
hear ;  intelligent,  cultivated,  well-informed  people, 
whose  conversation  was  highly  agreeable  and  always 
useful  to  her.  Ellen  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
talking,  so  she  made  good  use  of  her  ears. 

One  evening  Mr.  Lindsay,  a  M.  Villars,  and  M. 
Muller,  a  Swiss  gentleman  and  a  noted  man  of 
science,  very  much  at  home  in  Mr.  Lindsay's 
house,  were  carrying  on,  in  French,  a  conversation 
in  which  the  two  foreigners  took  part  against  their 
host.  M.  Villars  began  with  talking  about  Lafay- 
ette ;  from  him  they  went  to  the  American  Revolu- 
tion, and  Washington,  and  from  them  to  other 
patriots  and  other  republics,  ancient  and  mod- 
ern;— MM.  Villars  and  Muller  talking  the  side 
of  freedom  and  pressing  Mr.  Lindsay  hard  with 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  399 

argument,  authority,  example,  and  historical  testi- 
mony. Ellen,  as  usual,  was  fast  by  his  side,  and 
delighted  to  see  that  he  could  by  no  means  make 
good  his  ground.  The  ladies  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room  would  several  times  have  drawn  her 
away,  but  happily  for  her,  and  also  as  usual,  Mr. 
Lindsay's  arm  was  around  her  shoulders,  and  she 
was  left  in  quiet  to  listen.  The  conversation  was 
very  lively,  and  on  a  subject  very  interesting  to  her ; 
for  America  had  been  always  a  darling  theme; 
Scottish  struggles  for  freedom  were  fresh  in  her 
mind  ;  her  attention  had  long  ago  been  called  to 
Switzerland  and  its  history  by  Alice  and  Mrs. 
Vawse,  and  French  history  had  formed  a  good  part 
of  her  last  winter's  reading.  She  listened  with  the 
most  eager  delight,  too  much  engrossed  to  notice 
the  good-humored  glances  that  were  every  now  and 
then  given  her  by  one  of  the  speakers.  Not  Mr. 
Lindsay ; — though  his  hand  was  upon  her  shoulder 
or  playing  with, the  light  curls  that  fell  over  her 
temples,  he  did  not  see  that  her  face  was  flushed 
with  interest,  or  notice  the  quick  smile  and  sparkle 
of  the  eye  that  followed  every  turn  in  the  con- 
versation that  favored  her  wishes  or  foiled  his  ; 
— it  was  M.  Muller.  They  came  to  the  Swiss, 
and  their  famous  struggle  for  freedom  against 
Austrian  oppression.  M.  Muller  wished  to  speak 
of  the  noted  battle  in  which  that  freedom  was 
made  sure,  but  for  the  moment  its  name  had  es- 
caped him. 

"  Par  ma  foi,"  said  M.  Villars, — "  il  m'a  entiere- 
ment  passe  !  " 

Mr.  Lindsay  could  not  or  would  not  help  him 
out.     But  M.  Muller  suddenly  turned  to  Ellen,  in 


400  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

whose  face  he  thought  he  saw  a  look  of  intelligence, 
and  begged  of  her  the  missing  name. 

"  Est-ce  Morgarten,  monsieur  ?  "  said  Ellen, 
blushing. 

"  Morgarten  ?  c'est  c,a !  "  said  he,  with  a  polite, 
pleased  bow  of  thanks.  Mr.  Lindsay  was  little 
less  astonished  than  the  Duke  of  Argyle  when  his 
gardener  claimed  to  be  the  owner  of  a  Latin  work 
©n  mathematics. 

The  conversation  presently  took  a  new  turn  with 
M.  Villars  ;  and  M.  MuKer  withdrawing  from  it, 
addressed  himself  to  Ellen.  He  was  a  pleasant- 
looking  elderly  gentleman  ,  she  had  never  seen  him 
before  that  evening. 

"  You  know  French  well  then  ?  "  said  he,  speak- 
ing to  her  in  that  tongue. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  modestly. 

u  And  you  have  heard  of  the  Swiss  moun- 
taineers?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  a  great  deal." 

He  opened  his  watch  and  showed  her  in  the  back 
of  it  an  exquisite  little  painting,  asking  her  if  she 
knew  what  it  was. 

"  It  is  an  Alpine  chalet,  is  it  not,  sir  ? " 

He  was  pleased,  and  went  on,  always  in  French, 
to  tell  Ellen  that  Switzerland  was  his  country ;  and 
drawing  a  little  aside  from  the  other  talkers,  ae 
entered  into  a  long  and  to  her  most  delightful  con- 
versation. In  the  pleasantest  manner  he  gave  her 
a  vast  deal  of  very  entertaining  detail  about  the 
country  and  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  people 
of  the  Alps,  especially  in  the  Tyrol,  where  he  had 
often  traveled.  It  would  have  been  hard  to  tell 
whether  the  child  had  most  pleasure  in  receiving. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  &QR-L*.  401 

or  the  man  of  deep  study  and  science  most  pleasure 
in  giving,  all  manner  of  information.  He  saw,  he 
said,  that  she  was  very  fond  of  the  heroes  of  free- 
dom, and  asked  if  she  had  ever  heard  of  Andrew 
Hofer,  the  Tyrolese  peasant,  who  led  on  his 
brethren  in  their  noble  endeavors  to  rid  themselves 
of  French  and  Bavarian  oppression.  Ellen  had 
never  heard  of  him. 

"  You  know  William  Tell  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Ellen  said, — she  knew  him. 

"  And  Bonaparte  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  well." 

He  went  on  then  to  give  her  in  a  very  interest- 
ing way  the  history  of  Hofer ; — how  when  Napoleon 
made  over  his  country  to  the  rule  of  the  King  of 
Bavaria,  who  oppressed  them,  they  rose  in  mass ; 
overcame  army  after  army  that  were  sent  against 
them  in  their  mountain  fastnesses,  and  freed  them- 
selves from  the  hated  Bavarian  government;  how 
years  after  Napoleon  was  at  last  too  strong  for 
them  ;  Hofer  and  his  companions  defeated,  hunted 
like  wild  beasts,  shot  down  like  them  ;  how  Hofer 
was  at  last  betrayed  by  a  friend,  taken,  and  exe- 
cuted, being  only  seen  to  weep  at  parting  with  his 
family.  The  beautiful  story  was  well  told,  and  the 
speaker  was  animated  by  the  eager  deep  attention 
and  sympathy  of  his  auditor,  whose  changing 
color,  smiles,  and  even  tears,  showed  how  well  she 
entered  into  the  feelings  of  the  patriots  in  their 
struggle,  triumph,  and  downfall ;  till  as  he  finished 
she  was  left  full  of  pity  for  them  and  hatred  of 
Napoleon.  They  talked  of  the  Alps  again.  M. 
Muller  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
little  painting  in  mosaic  to  show  her,  which  he  said 
26 


4C2  THE    WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

had  been  given  him  that  day.  It  was  a  beautiful 
piece  of  pietra-dura  work — Mont  Blanc.  He  as- 
sured her  the  mountain  often  looked  exactly  so. 
Ellen  admired  it  very  much.  It  was  meant  to  be 
set  for  a  brooch  or  some  such  thing,  he  said,  and 
he  asked  if  she  would  keep  it  and  sometimes  wear 
it,  "  to  remember  the  Swiss,  and  to  do  him  a 
pleasure." 

"  Moi,  monsieur  ? "  said  Ellen,  coloring  high 
with  surprise  and  pleasure, — "  je  suis  bien  obligee 
— mais,  monsieur,  je  ne  saurais  vous  remercier  !  " 

He  would  count  himself  well  paid,  he  said  with 
a  single  touch  of  her  lips. 

"  Tenez,  monsieur ! "  said  Ellen,  blushing,  but 
smiling,  and  tendering  back  the  mosaic. 

He  laughed  and  bowed  and  begged  her  pardon, 
and  said  she  must  keep  it  to  assure  him  she  had 
forgiven  him ;  and  then  he  asked  by  what  name  he 
might  remember  her. 

"  Monsieur,  je  m'appelle  Ellen  M " 

She  stopped  short,  in  utter  and  blank  uncertainty 
what  to  call  herself ;  Montgomery  she  dared  not ; 
Lindsay  stuck  in  her  throat. 

"Have  you  forgotten  it?"  said  M.  Muller, 
amused  at  her  look,  "  or  is  it  a  secret  ?  " 

"  Tell  M.  Muller  your  name,  Ellen,"  said  Mr. 
Lindsay,  turning  round  from  a  group  where  he  was 
standing  at  a  little  distance.  The  tone  was  stern 
and  displeased.  Ellen  felt  it  keenly,  and  with  dif- 
ficulty and  some  hesitation  still,  murmured, 

"  Ellen  Lindsay."     . 

"  Lindsay  ?  Are  you  the  daughter  of  my  friend 
Mr.  Lindsay  ?  " 

Again    Ellen   hesitated,   in  great  doubt   how  to 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


403 


answer,  but  finally,  not  without  starting  tears,  said, 

"  Oui,  Monsieur." 

"  Your  memory  is  bad  to-night,"  said  Mr.  Lind- 
say, in  her  ear, — "  you  had  better  go  where  you  can 
refresh  it." 

Ellen  took  this  as  a  hint  to  leave  the  room,  which 
she  did  immediately,  not  a  little  hurt  at  the  dis- 
pleasure she  did  not  think  she  had  deserved  ;  she 
loved  Mr.  Lindsay  the  best  of  all  her  relations, 
and  really  loved  him.  She  went  to  bed  and  to 
sleep  again  that  night  with  wet  eyelashes. 

Meanwhile  M.  Muller  was  gratifying  Mr. 
Lindsay  in  a  high  degree  by  the  praises  he  be- 
stowed upon  his  daughter, — her  intelligence,  her 
manners,  her  modesty,  and  her  French.  He  asked 
if  she  was  to  be  in  Edinburgh  that  winter,  and 
whether  she  would  be  at  school ;  and  Mr.  Lindsay 
declaring  himself  undecided  on  the  latter  point,  M. 
Muller  said  he  should  be  pleased,  if  she  had  leisure, 
to  have  her  come  to  his  rooms  two  or  three  times  a 
week  to  read  with  him.  This  offer,  from  a  person 
of  M.  Muller's  standing  and  studious  habits,  Mr. 
Lindsay  justly  took  as  both  a  great  compliment 
and  a  great  promise  of  advantage  to  Ellen.  He  at 
once  and  with  much  pleasure  accepted  it.  So  the 
question  of  school  was  settled. 

Ellen  resolved  the  next  morning  to  lose  no  time 
in  making  up  her  difference  with  Mr.  Lindsay,  and 
schooled  herself  to  use  a  form  of  words  that  she 
thought  would  please  him.  Pride  said  indeed, 
"  Do  no  such  thing  ;  don't  go  to  making  acknowledg- 
ments when  you  have  not  been  in  the  wrong ;  you 
are  not  bound  to  humble  yourself  before  unjust 
displeasure."      Pride    pleaded    powerfully.      But 


404  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

neither  Ellen's  heart  nor  her  conscience  would  per- 
mit her  to  take  this  advice.  "  He  loves  me  very 
much,"  she  thought, — "  and  perhaps  he  did  not 
understand  me  last  night ;  and  besides,  I  owe  him 
— yes,  I  do  ! — a  child's  obedience  now.  I  ought 
not  to  leave  him  displeased  with  me  a  moment 
longer  than  I  can  help.  And  besides,  I  couldn't 
be  happy  so.  God  gives  grace  to  the  humble — I 
will  humble  myself." 

To  have  a  chance  for  executi  \>  this  determina- 
tion she  went  downstairs  a  good  deal  earlier  than 
usual ;  she  knew  Mr.  Lindsay  was  generally  there 
before  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  she  hoped  to  see 
him  alone.  It  was  too  soon  even  for  him,  however  ; 
the  rooms  were  empty  ;  so  Ellen  took  her  book 
from  the  table,  and  being  perfectly  at  peace  with 
herself,  sat  down  in  the  window  and  was  presently 
lost  in  the  interest  of  what  she  was  reading.  She 
did  not  know  of  Mr.  Lindsay's  approach  till  a 
little  imperative  tap  on  her  shoulder  startled  her. 

**  What  were  you  thinking  of  last  night  ?  What 
made  you  answer  M.  Muller  in  the  way  you 
did  ?  " 

Ellen  started  up,  but  to  utter  her  prepared  speech 
was  no  longer  possible. 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  say,"  she  said,  looking 
down. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  he,  angrily. 
"  Didn't    you  know  what  I  wished  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Yes — but — do  not  speak  to  me  in  that  way  !  " 
exclaimed  Ellen,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Pride  struggled  to  keep  back  the  tears  that  wanted 
to  flow. 

"  I   shall  choose  my  own    method  of  speaking. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  405 

Why  did  you  not  say  what  you  knew  I  wished  you 
to  say  ? " 

"  I  was  afraid — I  didn't  know — but  he  would 
think  what  wasn't  true." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  wish  him  and  all  the 
world  to  think ;  I  will  have  no  difference  made, 
Ellen,  either  by  them  or  you.  Now  lift  up  your 
head  and  listen  to  me,"  said  he,  taking  both  her 
hands, — "  I  lay  my  commands  upon  you,  whenever 
the  like  questions  may  be  asked  again,  that  you 
answer  simply  according  to  what  I  have  told  you, 
without  any  explanation  or  addition.  It  is  true, 
and  if  people  draw  conclusions  that  are  not  true,  it 
is  what  I  wish.     Do  you  understand  me 

Ellen  bowed. 

"  Will  you  obey  me  ?  " 

She  answered  again  in  the  same  mute  way. 

He  ceased  to  hold  her  at  arm's  length,  and 
sitting  down  in  her  chair  drew  her  close  to  him, 
saying  more  kindly, 

"  You  must  not  displease  me,  Ellen." 

"  I  had  no  thought  of  displeasing  you,  sir,"  said 
Ellen,  bursting  into  tears, — "  and  I  was  very  sorry 
for  it  last  night.  I  did  not  mean  to  disobey  you— 
I  only  hesitated " 

"  Hesitate  no  more.  My  commands  may  serve 
to  remove  the  cause  of  it.  You  are  my  daughter, 
Ellen,  and  I  am  your  father.  Poor  child  !  "  said 
he,  for  Ellen  was  violently  agitated, — "  I  don't 
believe  I  shall  have  much  difficulty  with  you." 

"If  you  will  on" ■*  not  speak  and  look  at  me  so," 
said  Ellen,  "  it  m&^es  me  very  unhappy ■" 

"  Hush  !  "  said  he,  kissing  her  ; — "  do  not  give 
me  occasion." 


406  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  I  did  not  give  you  occasion,  sir  ?  " 

"Why,  Ellen  !  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  half  displeased 
again, — "  I  shall  begin  to  think  your  Aunt  Keith  is 
right,  that  you  are  a  true  Lindsay.  But  so  am  I, 
— and  I  will  have  only  obedience  from  you — without 
either  answering  or  argumenting." 

"  You  shall,"  murmured  Ellen.  "  But  do  not  be 
displeased  with  me,  father." 

Ellen  had  schooled  herself  to  say  that  word  ; 
she  knew  it  would  greatly  please  him ;  and  she  was 
not  mistaken  ;  though  it  was  spoken  so  low  that 
his  ears  could  but  just  catch  it.  Displeasure  was 
entirely  overcome.  He  pressed  her  to  his  heart, 
kissing  her  with  great  tenderness,  and  would  not 
let  her  go  from  his  arms  till  he  had  seen  her  smile 
again ;  and  during  all  the  day  he  was  not  willing 
to  have  her  out  of  his  sight. 

It  would  have  been  easy  that  morning  for  Ellen 
to  have  made  a  breach  between  them  that  would 
not  readily  have  been  healed.  One  word  of  humility 
had  prevented  it  all,  and  fastened  her  more  firmly 
than  ever  in  Mr.  Lindsay's  affection.  She  met 
with  nothing  from  him  but  tokens  of  great  and 
tender  fondness ;  and  Lady  Keith  told  her  mother 
apart  that  there  would  be  no  doing  anything  with 
George  !  she  saw  he  was  getting  bewitched  with 
that  child. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  407 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

My  heart  is  sair,  I  dare  nae  tell, 
My  heart  is  sair  for  somebody : 
I  could  wake  a  winter  night 
For  the  sake  of  somebody. 
Oh-hon  !  for  somebody  ! 
Oh-hey !  for  somebody  ! 
I  wad  do — what  wad  I  not  ? 
For  the  sake  of  somebody. 

(Kr>  Song. 

In  a  few  weeks  they  moved  to  Edinburgh,  where 
arrangements  were  speedily  made  for  giving  Ellen 
every  means  of  improvement  that  masters  and 
mistresses,  books  and  instruments,  could  afford. 

The  house  in  George  Street  was  large  and 
pleasant.  To  Ellen's  great  joy,  a  pretty  little  room 
opening  from  the  first  landing-place  of  the  private 
staircase  was  assigned  for  her  special  use  as  a 
study  and  work-room  ;  and  fitted  up  nicely  for  her 
with  a  small  book-case,  a  practicing  piano,  and 
various  etceteras.  Here  her  beloved  desk  took  its 
place  on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  where 
Ellen  thought  she  would  make  many  a  new  draw- 
ing when  she  was  by  herself.  Her  work-box  was 
accommodated  with  a  smaller  stand  near  the 
window.  A  glass  door  at  one  end  of  the  room 
opened  upon  a  small  iron  balcony ;  this  door  and 
balcony  Ellen  esteemed  a  very  particular  treasure. 
With  marvelous  satisfaction  she  arranged  and 
arranged  her  little  sanctum  till  she  had  all  things 
to  her  mind,  and  it  only  wanted,  she  thought,  a 
glass  of  flowers.  "  I  will  have  that  too  some  of 
these  days,"  she  said  to  herself  ;  and  resolved  to 
deserve  her  pretty  room  by  being  very  busy  there. 


4o8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

It  was  hers  alone,  open  indeed  to  her  friends  when 
they  chose  to  keep  her  company  ;  but  lessons  were 
taken  elsewhere  ;  in  the  library,  or  the  music-room, 
or  more  frequently  her  grandmother's  dressing- 
room.  Wherever,  or  whatever,  Mrs.  Lindsay  or 
Lady  Keith  was  always  present. 

Ellen  was  the  plaything,  pride,  and  delight  of 
the  whole  family.  Not  so  much,  however,  Lady 
Keith's  plaything  as  her  pride  ;  while  pride  had  a 
less  share  in  the  affection  of  the  other  two,  or 
rather  perhaps  was  more  overtopped  by  it.  Ellen 
felt,  however,  that  all  their  hearts  were  set  upon 
her,  felt  it  gratefully,  and  determined  she  would 
give  them  all  the  pleasure  she  possibly  could. 
Her  love  for  other  friends,  friends  that  they  knew 
nothing  of,  American  friends,  was,  she  knew,  the 
sore  point  with  them  ;  she  resolved  not  to  speak  of 
those  friends,  nor  allude  to  them,  especially  in  any 
way  that  should  show  how  much  of  her  heart  was 
out  of  Scotland.  But  this  wise  resolution  was 
very  hard  for  poor  Ellen  to  keep.  She  was  un- 
accustomed to  concealments  ;  and  in  ways  that  she 
could  neither  foresee  nor  prevent,  the  unwelcome 
truth  would  come  up,  and  the  sore  was  not  healed. 

One  day  Ellen  had  a  headache,  and  was  sent  to 
lie  down.  Alone,  and  quietly  stretched  on  her  bed, 
very  naturally,  Ellen's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  last 
time  she  had  had  a  headache,  at  home,  as  she  always 
called  it  to  herself.  She  recalled  with  a  straitened 
heart  the  gentle  and  tender  manner  of  John's  care 
for  her  ;  how  nicely  he  had  placed  her  on  the  sofa  ; 
how  he  sat  by  her  side,  bathing  her  temples,  or 
laying  his  cool  hand  on  her  forehead,  and  once,  she 
remembered,  his  lips.     "  I  wonder,"  thought  Ellen, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  409 

"  what  I  ever  did  to  make  him  love  me  so  much,  as 
I  know  he  does  ?  "  She  remembered  how,  when 
she  was  able  to  listen,  he  still  sat  beside  her, 
talking  such  sweet  words  of  kindness  and  comfort 
and  amusement,  that  she  almost  loved  to  be  sick 
to  have  such  tending,  and  looked  up  at  him  as  at 
an  angel.  She  felt  it  all  over  again.  Unfortu- 
nately, after  she  had  fallen  asleep,  Mrs.  Lindsay 
came  in  to  see  how  she  was,  and  two  tears,  the 
last  pair  of  them,  were  slowly  making  their  way 
down  her  cheeks.  Her  grandmother  saw  them, 
and  did  not  rest  till  she  knew  the  cause.  Ellen 
was  extremely  sorry  to  tell,  she  did  her  best  to  get 
off  from  it,  but  she  did  not  know  how  to  evade 
questions ;  and  those  that  were  put  to  her  indeed 
admitted  of  no  evasion. 

A  few  days  later,  just  after  they  came  to  Edin- 
burgh, it  was  remarked  one  morning  at  breakfast 
that  Ellen  was  very  straight  and  carried  herself 
well. 

"  It  is  no  thanks  to  me,"  said  Ellen,  smiling, — 
"they  never  would  let  me  hold  myself  ill." 

"  Who  is  '  they '  ?  "  said  Lady  Keith. 

"  My  brother  and  sister." 

"  I  wish,  George,"  said  Lady  Keith,  discontent- 
edly, "  that  you  would  lay  your  commands  upon. 
Ellen  to  use  that  form  of  expression  no  more.  My 
ears  are  absolutely  sick  of  it." 

"  You  do  not  hear  it  very  often,  Aunt  Keith," 
Ellen  could  not  help  saying. 

"  Quite  often  enough  ;  and  I  know  it  is  upon, 
your  lips  a  thousand  times  when  you  do  not  speak 
it." 

"  And    if   Ellen    does,  we    do    not,"    said    Mrs* 


4io 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


Lindsay,  "  wish  to  claim  kindred  with  all  the 
world." 

"  How  came  you  to  take  up  such  an  absurd 
habit  ?  "  said  Lady  Keith.     "  It  isn't  like  you." 

"They  took  it  up  first,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  was  too 
glad " 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say  they  had  their  reasons  for 
taking  it  up,"  said  her  aunt; — "they  had  acted 
from  interested  motives,  I  have  no  doubt ;  people 
always  do." 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,  Aunt  Keith," 
said  Ellen,  with  uncontrollable  feeling  ; — "  you  do 
not  in  the  least  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

Instantly,  Mr.  Lindsay's  fingers  tapped  her  lips. 
Ellen  colored  painfully,  but  after  a  minute's  hesi- 
tation, she  said  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Aunt  Keith,  I  should  not 
have  said  that." 

"  Very  well !  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay.  "  But  under- 
stand, Ellen,  however  you  may  have  taken  it  up, — 
this  habit, — you  will  lay  it  down  for  the  future. 
Let  us  hear  no  more  of  brothers  and  sisters.  I 
cannot,  as  your  grandmother  says,  fraternize  with 
all  the  world,  especially  with  unknown  relations." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  made  that  regulation," 
said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  I  cannot  conceive  how  Ellen  has  got  such  a  way 
of  it,"  said  Lady  Keith. 

"  It  is  very  natural,"  said  Ellen,  with  some 
huskiness  of  voice,  "  that  I  should  say  so,  because  I 
feel  so." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, 
"  that  this  Mr.  and  Miss  Somebody — these  people 
—  I  don't  know  their  names " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  41 1 

"  There  is  only  one  now,  sir." 

"This  person  you  call  your  brother — do  you 
mean  to  say  you  have  the  same  regard  for  him  as 
if  he  had  been  born  so  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ellen,  cheek  and  eye  suddenly  firing, 
"  but  a  thousand  times  more  !  " 

She  was  exceedingly  sorry  the  next  minute  after 
she  had  said  this ;  for  she  knew  it  had  given  both 
pain  and  displeasure  in  a  great  degree.  No 
answer  was  made.  Ellen  dared  not  look  at  any- 
body, and  needed  not  ;  she  wished  the  silence 
might  be  broken  ;  but  nothing  was  heard  except  a 
low  ""  whew !  "  from  Mr.  Lindsay,  till  he  rose  up 
and  left  the  room,  ^llen  was  sure  he  was  very 
much  displeased.  Even  the  ladies  were  too  much 
offended  to  speak  on  the  subject ;  and  she  was 
merely  bade  to  go  to  her  room.  She  went  there, 
and  sitting  down  on  the  floor,  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  "  What  shall  I  do  ? — what  shall  I 
do  ? "  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  never  shall  govern 
this  tongue  of  mine.  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  not  said 
that !  they  will  never  forget  it.  What  can  I  do  to 
make  them  pleased  with  me  again  ? — Shall  I  go  to 
my  father's  study  and  beg  him — but  I  can't  ask  him 
to  forgive  me — I  haven't  done  wrong — I  can't 
unsay  what  I  said.  I  can  do  nothing, — I  can  only 
go  in  the  way  of  my  duty  and  do  the  best  I  can, — 
and  maybe  they  will  come  round  again.  But,  oh 
dear !  " 

A  flood  of  tears  followed  this  resolution. 

Ellen  kept  it ;  she  tried  to  be  blameless  in  all 
her  work  and  behavior,  but  she  sorrowfully  felt 
that  her  friends  did  not  forgive  her.  There  was  a 
cool  air  of  displeasure  about  all  they  said  and  did; 


4i2  THE   WiDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

the  hand  of  fondness  was  not  laid  upon  hei 
shoulder,  she  was  not  wrapped  in  loving  arms,  as 
she  used  to  be  a  dozen  times  a  day  ;  no  kisses  fell 
on  her  brow  or  lips.  Ellen  felt  it,  more  from  Mr. 
Lindsay  than  both  the  others  ; — her  spirits  sunk  ; 
— she  had  been  forbidden  to  speak  of  her  absent 
friends,  but  that  was  not  the  way  to  make  her 
forget  them  ;  and  there  was  scarce  a  minute  in  the 
day  when  her  brother  was  not  present  to  her 
thoughts. 

Sunday  came.  Her  first  Sunday  in  Edinburgh. 
All  went  to  church  in  the  morning  ;  in  the  after- 
noon Ellen  found  that  nobody  was  going ;  her 
grandmother  was  lying  down.  She  asked  per- 
mission to  go  alone. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  because  you  think  you  must  ? 
•or  for  pleasure  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  For  pleasure !  "  said  Ellen's  tongue,  and  her 
•opening  eyes  at  the  same  time. 

"  You  may  go." 

With  eager  delight  Ellen  got  ready,  and  was 
hastening  along  the  hall  to  the  door,  when  she  met 
Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? " 

"  To  church,  sir." 

"  Alone  ?  What  do  you  want  to  go  for  ?  No, 
no,  I  sha'n't  let  you.  Come  in  here — I  want  you 
with  me ; — you  have  been  once  to-day,  already, 
haven't  you  ?     You  do  not  want  to  go  again?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed,  sir,  very  much,"  said  Ellen,  as 
she  reluctantly  followed  him  into  the  library, — "if 
you  have  no  objection.  You  know  I  have  not 
seen  Edinburgh  yet." 

"  Edinburgh !  that's  true,  so  you  haven't,"  said 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


413 


he,  looking  at  her  discomfited  face.  "  Well,  go,  if 
you  want  to  go  so  much." 

Ellen  got  as  far  as  the  hall  door — no  further ;  she 
rushed  back  to  the  library. 

"  I  did  not  say  right  when  I  said  that,"  she  burst 
forth  ; — "  that  was  not  the  reason  I  wanted  to  go. 
I  will  stay,  if  you  wish  me,  sir." 

"  I  don't  wish  it,"  said  he,  in  surprise  ; — "  I  don't 
know  what  you  mean — I  am  willing  you  should  go 
if  you  like  it.     Away  with  you  !  it  is  time." 

Once  more  Ellen  set  out,  but  this  time  with  a 
heart  full  ;  much  too  full  to  think  of  anything  she 
saw  by  the  way.  It  was  with  a  singular  feeling  of 
pleasure  that  she  entered  the  church  alone.  It 
was  a  strange  church  to  her,  never  seen  but  once  be- 
fore, and  as  she  softly  passed  up  the  broad  aisle  she 
saw  nothing  in  the  building  or  the  people  around 
her  that  was  not  strange, — no  familiar  face,  nor 
familiar  thing.  But  it  was  a  church,  and  she  was 
alone,  quite  alone  in  the  midst  of  that  crowd ;  ana 
she  went  up  to  the  empty  pew  and  ensconced  her- 
self in  the  far  corner  of  it,  with  a  curious  feeling  of 
quiet  and  of  being  at  home.  She  was  no  sooner 
seated,  however,  than  leaning  forward  as  much  as 
possible  to  screen  herself  from  observation,  bend- 
ing her  head  upon  her  knees,  she  burst  into  an 
agony  of  tears.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  be  able  to 
weep  freely  ;  at  home  she  was  afraid  of  being  seen 
or  heard  or  questioned  ;  now  she  was  alone  and 
free,  and  she  poured  out  her  very  heart  in  weeping 
that  she  with  difficulty  kept  from  being  loud  weep- 
ing. 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  say  that  !  how  could  I  say  that ! 
Oh,  what    would  John  have  thought    of    me  if  be 


414  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

had  heard  it ! — Am  I  beginning  already  to  lose  my 
truth  ?  am  I  going  backward  already  ?  Oh,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  what  will  become  of  me  if  I  do  not 
watch  over  myself — there  is  no  one  to  help  me  or 
lead  me  right — not  a  single  one — all  to  lead  me 
wrong  !  what  will  become  of  me  ? — But  there  is  One 
who  has  promised  to  keep  those  that  follow  Him — 
He  is  sufficient,  without  any  others — I  have  not  kept 
near  enough  to  Him  ;  that  is  it ; — I  have  not  re- 
membered nor  loved  Him — '  If  ye  love  Me,  keep 
My  commandments,' — I  have  not !  I  have  not ! 
Oh,  but  I  will ! — I  will !  and  He  will  be  with  me, 
and  help  me,  and  bless  me,  and  all  will  go  right 
with  me." 

With  bitter  tears  Ellen  mingled  as  eager  prayers, 
for  forgiveness  and  help  to  be  faithful.  She  re- 
solved that  nothing,  come  what  would,  should  tempt 
her  to  swerve  one  iota  from  the  straight  line  of 
truth ;  she  resolved  to  be  more  careful  of  her 
private  hour;  she  thought  she  had  scarcely  had  her 
full  hour  a  day  lately ;  she  resolved  to  make  the 
Bible  her  only  and  her  constant  rule  of  life  in 
everything; — and  she  prayed,  such  prayers  as  a 
heart  thoroughly  in  earnest  can  JDray,  for  the  seal 
to  these  resolutions.  Not  one  word  of  the  sermon 
did  Ellen  hear ;  but  she  never  passed  a  more  profit- 
able hour  in  church  in  her  life. 

All  her  tears  were  not  from  the  spring  of  these 
thoughts  and  feelings  ;  some  were  the  pouring  out 
of  the  gathered  sadness  of  the  week ;  some  came 
from  recollections — oh,  how  tender  and  strong  ! — 
of  lost  and  distant  friends.  Her  mother— and 
Alice — and  Mr.  Humphreys — and  Margery — and 
Mr.  Van    Brunt — and    Mr.    George  Marshman ;— 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  415 

and  she  longed,  with  longing  that  seemed  as  if  it 
would  burst  her  heart,  to  see  her  brother.  She 
longed  for  the  pleasant  voice,  the  eye  of  thousand 
expressions,  into  which  she  always  looked  as  if  she 
had  never  seen  it  before,  the  calm  look  that  told 
he  was  satisfied  with  her,  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
which  many  a  time  had  said  a  volume.  Ellen 
thought  she  would  give  anything  in  the  world  to 
see  him  and  hear  him  speak  one  word.  As  this 
could  not  be,  she  resolved  with  the  greatest  care  to 
do  what  would  please  him  ;  that  when  she  did  see 
him  he  might  find  her  all  he  wished. 

She  had  wept  herself  out ;  she  had  refreshed  and 
strengthened  herself  by  fleeing  to  the  stronghold 
of  the  prisoners  of  hope  ;  and  when  the  last  hymn 
was  given  out  she  raised  her  head  and  took  the 
book  to  find  it.  To  her  great  surprise  she  saw  Mr. 
Lindsay  sitting  at  the  other  end  of  the  pew,  with 
folded  arms,  like  a  man  not  thinking  of  what  was 
going  on  around  him.  Ellen  was  startled,  but 
■obeying  the  instinct  that  told  her  what  he  would 
like,  she  immediately  moved  down  the  pew  and 
stood  beside  him  while  the  last  hymn  was  singing  ; 
and  if  Ellen  had  joined  in  no  other  part  of  the  serv- 
ice that  afternoon,  she  at  least  did  in  that  with  all 
her  heart.  They  walked  home  then  without  a  word 
on  either  side.  Mr.  Lindsay  did  not  quit  her  hand 
till  he  had  drawn  her  into  the  library.  There  he 
threw  off  her  bonnet  and  wrappers,  and  taking  her 
in  his  arms,  exclaimed  : 

"  My  poor  little  darling !  what  was  the  matter 
with  you  this  afternoon  ?  " 

There  was  so  much  of  kindness  again  in  his  tone, 
that,  overjoyed,  Ellen  eagerly  returned  his    caress, 


4i 6  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

and  assured  him  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with 
her  now. 

"  Nothing  the  matter  !  "  said  he,  tenderly  press- 
ing her  face  against  his  own, — "  nothing  the  mat- 
ter !  with  these  pale  cheeks  and  wet  eyes  ?  nothing 
now,   Ellen  ? " 

"  Only  that  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  speak  kindly 
to  me  again,  sir." 

"  Kindly  ?  I  will  never  speak  any  way  but  kindly 
to  you,  daughter ; — come  !  I  will  not  have  any 
more  tears — you  have  shed  enough  for  to-day,  X  am 
sure ;  lift  up  your  face  and  I  will  kiss  them  eway. 
What  was  the  matter  with  you,  my  child  ?  " 

But  he  had  to  wait  a  little  while  for  an  answer. 

"  What  was  it,  Ellen  ?  " 

"One  thing,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  was  sorry  for  what 
I  had  said  to  you,  sir,  just  before  I  went  out." 

"  What  was  that  ?  I  do  not  remember  anything 
that  deserved  to  be  a  cause  of  grief." 

"  I  told  you,  sir,  when  I  wanted  you  to  let  me  go 
to  church,  that  I  hadn't  seen  Edinburgh  yet." 

"  Well  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,  that  wasn't  being  quite  true  ;  and  I 
was  very  sorry  for  it !  " 

"  Not  true  ?  yes,  it  was  ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  you 
had  not  seen  Edinburgh." 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  mean — that  was  true,  but  I  said 
it  to  make  you  believe  what  wasn't  true." 

"  How  ? " 

*'  I  meant  you  to  think,  sir,  that  that  was  the 
reason  why  I  wanted  to  go  to  church — to  see  the 
city  and  the  new  sights — and  it  wasn't  at  alL" 

"  What  was  it,  then  ?  " 

Ellen  hesitated. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  417 

"  I  always  love  to  go,  sir, — and,  besides,  I  believe 
I  wanted  to  be  alone." 

"  And  you  were  not,  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, 
again  pressing  her  cheek  to  his, — "  for  I  followed 
you  there.  But,  Ellen,  my  child,  you  were  troubled 
without  reason ;  you  had  said  nothing  that  was 
false." 

"  Ah,  sir,  but  I  had  made  you  believe  what  was 
false." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  "  you  are 
a  nice  reasoner.  And  are  you  always  true  upon 
this  close  scale  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  was,  sir,  but  you  see  I  am  not.  I  am 
sure  I  hate  everything  else  !  " 

"  Well,  I  will  not  quarrel  with  you  for  being  true," 
said  Mr.  Lindsay  ; — "  I  wish  there  was  a  little  more 
of  it  in  the  world.  Was  this  the  cause  of  all  those 
tears  this  afternoon  ? " 

"  No,  sir — not  all." 

"  What  beside,  Ellen  ? " 

Ellen  looked  down,  and  was  silent. 

"  Come — I  must  know." 

"  Must  I  tell  you  all,  sir  ? " 

"  You  must,  indeed,"  said  he,  smiling ;  "  I  will 
have  the  whole,  daughter." 

"  I  had  been  feeling  sorry  all  the  week  because 
you  and  grandmother  and  Aunt  Keith  were  dis- 
pleased with  me." 

Again  Mr.  Lindsay's  silent  caress  in  its  tender- 
ness seemed  to  say  that  she  should  never  have  the 
same  complaint  to  make  again. 

"Was  that  all,  Ellen  ?  "  as  she  hesitated. 

"No,  sir." 

"  Well  ? " 
27 


41 8  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   V/ORLD. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  ask  me  further ;  please 
do  not ! — I  shall  displease  you  again." 

"  I  will  not  be  displeased." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Humphreys,"  said  Ellen 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  " 

"You  know,  sir, — you  say  I  must  not  call 
him " 

"  What  were  you  thinking  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  wishing  very  much  I  could  see  him 
again." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  truth-teller,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 
— "  or  bolder  than  I  think  you." 

"  You  said  you  would  not  be  displeased,  sir." 

"  Neither  will  I,  daughter ;  but  what  shall  I  do 
to  make  you  forget  these  people  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir  ;  I  cannot  forget  them  ;  I  shouldn't 
deserve  to  have  you  love  me  a  bit  if  I  could.  Lee 
me  love  them,  and  do  not  be  angry  with  me  for 
it ! " 

"  But  I  am  not  satisfied  to  have  your  body  here 
and  your  heart  somewhere  else." 

"  I  must  have  a  poor  little  kind  of  heart,"  saia 
Ellen,  smiling  amidst  her  tears,  "  if  it  had  room  in 
it  for  only  one  person." 

"  Ellen,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  inquisitively,  "  did 
you  insinuate  a  falsehood  there  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  There  is  honesty  in  those  eyes,"  said  he,  "  if 
there  is  honesty  anywhere  in  the  world.  I  am 
satisfied — that  is,  half  satisfied.  Now,  lie  there,  my 
little  daughter,  and  rest,"  said  he,  laying  her  upon 
the  sofa  ;  "  you  look  as  if  you  needed  it." 

"  I  don't  need  anything  now,"  said  Ellen,  as  she 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


419 


laid  her  cheek  upon  the  grateful  pillow,  "  except 
one  thing — if  grandmother  would  only  forgive  me 
too." 

"  You  must  try  not  to  offend  your  grandmother, 
Ellen,  for  she  does  not  very  readily  forgive  ;  but  I 
think  we  can  arrange  this  matter.  Go  you  to 
sleep." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  as  she  closed 
her  eyes,  "  why  everybody  calls  me  '  little  ; '  I  don't 
think  I  am  very  little.     Everybody  says  '  little.'  " 

Mr.  Lindsay  thought  he  understood  it  when  a 
few  minutes  after  he  sat  watching  her  as  she  really 
had  fallen  asleep.  The  innocent  brow,  the  perfect 
sweet  calm  of  the  face,  seemed  to  belong  to  much 
younger  years.  Even  Mr.  Lindsay  could  not  help 
recollecting  the  housekeeper's  comment,  "  Heaven's 
peace  within ; "  scarcely  Ellen's  own  mother  ever 
watched  over  her  with  more  fond  tenderness  than 
her  adopted  father  did  now. 

For  several  days  after  this  he  would  hardly 
permit  her  to  leave  him.  He  made  her  bring  her 
books  and  study  where  he  was  ;  he  went  out  and 
came  in  with  her,  and  kept  her  by  his  side  when- 
ever they  joined  the  rest  of  the  family  at  meals  or 
in  the  evening.  Whether  Mr.  Lindsay  intended  it 
or  not,  this  had  soon  the  effect  to  abate  the  dis- 
pleasure of  his  mother  and  sister.  Ellen  was  al- 
most taken  out  of  their  hands,  and  they  thought  it 
expedient  not  to  let  him  have  the  whole  of  her. 
And  though  Ellen  could  better  bear  their  cold  looks 
and  words  since  she  had  Mr.  Lindsay's  favor  again, 
she  was  very  glad  when  they  smiled  upon  her  too, 
and  went  dancing  about  with    quite  a   happy  face. 

She  was  now  very  busy.     She  had  masters  for 


42  o  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

the  piano  and  singing,  and  different  branches  of 
knowledge ;  she  went  to  M.  Muller  regularly  twice 
a  week ;  and  soon  her  riding-attendance  began. 
She  had  said  no  more  on  the  subject,  but  went 
quietly,  hoping  they  would  find  out  their  mistake 
before  long.     Lady  Keith  always  accompanied  her 

One  day  Ellen  had  ridden  near  her  usual  time 
when  a  young  lady,  with  whom  she  attended  a 
German  class,  came  up  to  where  she  was  resting. 
This  lady  was  several  years  older  than  Ellen,  but 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  her. 

"  How  finely  you  got  on  yesterday,"  said  she, — 
"  making  us  all  ashamed.  Ah,  I  guess  M.  Muller 
helped  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellen,  smiling,  "  he  did  help  me  a 
little  ;  he  helped  me  with  those  troublesome  pro- 
nunciations." 

"  With  nothing  else,  I  suppose  ?  Ah,  well,  we 
must  submit  to  be  stupid.     How  do  you  do  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  tired,  Miss  Gordon." 

"  Tired  ?     Oh,  you're  not  used  to  it." 

"  No,  it  isn't  that,"  said  Ellen  ; — "  I  am  used  to 
it — that  is  the  reason  I  am  tired.  I  am  accustomed 
to  ride  up  and  down  the  country  at  any  pace  I  like  ; 
and  it  is  very  tiresome  to  walk  stupidly  round  and 
round  for  an  hour." 

"  But  do  you  know  how  to  manage  a  horse  ?  I 
thought  you  were  only  just  beginning  to  learn." 

"  Oh,  no — I  have  been  learning  this  great  while  ; 
— only  they  don't  think  I  know  how,  and  they 
have  never  seen  me.  Are  you  just  come,  Miss 
Gordon  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  they  are  bringing  out  Sophronisbe 
for  me — do  you    know  Sophronisbe  ? — look — that 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  421 

light  gray — isn't  she  beautiful  ?  She's  the  loveliest 
creature  in  the  whole  stud." 

"  Oh,  I  know  !  "  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  saw  you  on  her 
the  other  day ;  she  went  charmingly.  How  long 
shall  I  be  kept  walking  here,  Miss  Gordon  ? " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know — I  should  think  they  would 
find  out — what  does  De  Courcy  say  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  comes  and  looks  at  me  and  says,  '  Tres 
bien — tres  bien,'  and  '  Allez  comme  ca,'  and  then 
he  walks  off." 

"Well,  I  declare  that  is  too  bad,"  said  Miss 
Gordon,  laughing.  "  Look  here— I've  got  a  good 
thought  in  my  head — suppose  you  mount  Sophron- 
isbe  in  my  place,  without  saying  anything  to  any- 
body, and  let  them  see  what  you  are  up  to.  Can 
you  trust  yourself  ? — she's  very  spirited." 

"  I  could  trust  myself,"  said  Ellen  :  "  but,  thank 
you,  I  think  I  had  better  not." 

"  Afraid  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all ;  but  my  aunt  and  father  would 
not  like  it." 

"  Nonsense  !  how  should  they  dislike  it  ? — - 
there's  no  sort  of  danger,  you  know.  Come ! — I 
thought  you  sat  wonderfully  for  a  beginner.  I  am 
surprised  De  Courcy  hadn't  better  eyes.  I  guess 
you  have  learned  German  before,  Ellen  ? — Come, 
will  you  ? " 

But  Ellen  declined,  preferring  her  plodding  walk 
round  the  ring  to  any  putting  of  herself  forward. 
Presently  Mr.  Lindsay  came  in.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  been  there.  His  eyes  soon  singled 
out  Ellen. 

"  My  daughter  sits  TreU-"  he  remarked  to  the 
riding-master. 


422  THE   IV IDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

*  A  merveille  ! — Mademoiselle  Lindsay  does  ride 
remarquablement  pour  une  beginner — qai  ne  fait 
que  cornmencer.  Would  it  be  possible  that  she 
has  had  no  lessons  before  ? " 

"  Why,  yes — she  has  had  lessons — of  what  sort 
I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  going  up  to  Ellen. 
"  How  do  you  like  it,  Ellen  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,  sir." 

"  I  thought  you  were  so  fond  of  riding." 

"  I  don't  call  this  riding,  sir." 

u  Ha  !  what  do  you  call  riding  ?  Here,  M.  De 
Courcy — won't  you  have  the  goodness  to  put  this 
young  lady  on  another  horse  and  see  if  she  knows 
anything  about  handling  him  ?  " 

"  With  great  pleasure  !  "  M.  De  Courcy  would 
do  anything  that  was  requested  of  him.  Ellen  was 
taken  out  of  the  ring  of  walkers  and  mounted  on  a 
fine  animal,  and  set  by  herself  to  have  her  skill 
tried  in  as  many  various  ways  as  M.  De  Courcy's 
ingenuity  could  point  out.  Never  did  she  bear  her- 
self more  erectly ;  never  were  her  hands  and  her 
horse's  mouth  on  nicer  terms  of  acquaintanceship  ; 
never,  even  to  please  her  master,  had  she  so  given 
her  whole  soul  to  the  single  business  of  managing 
her  horse  and  herself  perfectly  well.  She  knew  as 
little  as  she  cared  that  a  number  of  persons  besides 
her  friends  were  standing  to  look  at  her ;  she 
thought  of  only  two  people  there,  Mr.  Lindsay  and 
her  aunt ;  and  the  riding-master,  as  his  opinion 
might  affect  theirs. 

"  C'est  tres  bien, — c'est  tres  bien," — he  mut- 
tered,—  "c'est  parfaitement — Monsieur,  Mademoi- 
selle  votre  fille  has  had  good  lessons — voila  qui 
est  entierement  comme  il  faut." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  423 

"  Assez  bien,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  smiling.  "The 
little  gypsy  ! " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  riding-master,  as  she 
paused  before  them, — "pourquoi,  wherefore  have 
you  stopped  in  your  canter  tanot — a  little  while 
ago — et  puis  recommence  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  he  led  with  the  wrong  foot." 

"  C'est  5a — justement !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Have  you  practiced  leaping,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Try  her,  M.  De  Courcy.  How  high  will  you 
go,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  As  high  as  you  please,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  lean- 
ing over  and  patting  her  horse's  neck  to  hide  her 
smile. 

"  How  you  look,  child,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  in  a 
pleased  tone.     "  So  this  is  what  you  call  riding  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  little  more  like  it,  sir." 

Ellen  was  tried  with  standing  and  running  leaps, 
higher  and  higher,  till  Mr.  Lindsay  would  have  no 
more  of  it ;  and  M.  De  Courcy  assured  him  that 
his  daughter  had  been  taught  by  a  very  accom- 
plished rider,  and  there  was  little  or  nothing  left 
for  him  to  do  ;  il  n'y  pouvoit  plus  ; — but  he  should 
be  very  happy  to  have  her  come  there  to  practice 
and  show  an  example  to  his  pupils. 

The  very  bright  color  in  Ellen's  face  as  she 
heard  this  might  have  been  mistaken  for  the  flush 
of  gratified  vanity  :  it  was  nothing  less.  Not  one 
word  of  this  praise  did  she  take  to  herself,  nor 
had  she  sought  for  herself ; — it  was  all  for  some- 
body else  ;  and  perhaps  so  Lady  Keith  understood 
it,  for  she  looked  rather  discomfited.  But  Mr. 
Lindsay  was   exceedingly  pleased  ;  and  promised 


424  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  that  as  soon  as  the  warm  weather  came  she 
should  have  a  horse,  and  ride  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent. 

CHAPTER  L. 

She  was  his  care,  his  hope,  and  his  delight, 
Most  in  his  thought,  and  ever  in  his  sight. 

Dryden. 

Ellen  might  now  have  been  in  some  danger  of 
being  spoiled, — not  indeed  with  over-indulgence, 
for  that  was  not  the  temper  of  the  family, — but 
from  finding  herself  a  person  of  so  much  conse- 
quence. She  could  not  but  feel  that  in  the  minds 
of  every  one  of  her  three  friends  she  was  the  ob- 
ject of  greatest  importance ;  their  thoughts  and 
care  were  principally  occupied  with  her.  Even 
Lady  Keith  was  perpetually  watching,  superintend- 
ing, and  admonishing  ;  though  she  every  now  and 
then  remarked,  with  a  kind  of  surprise,  that  "  really 
she  scarcely  ever  had  to  say  anything  to  Ellen ; 
she  thought  she  must  know  things  by  instinct." 
To  Mr.  Lindsay  and  his  mother  she  was  the  idol 
of  life  ;  and  except  when  by  chance  her  will  might 
cross  theirs,  she  had  what  she  wished  and  did  what 
she  pleased. 

But  Ellen  happily  had  two  safeguards  which 
effectually  kept  her  from  pride  or  presumption. 

One  was  her  love  for  her  brother  and  longing 
remembrance  of  him.  There  was  no  one  to  take 
his  place,  not  indeed  in  her  affections,  for  that 
would  have  been  impossible,  but  in  the  daily 
course  of  her  life.  She  missed  him  in  everything. 
She  had  abundance  of  kindness  and  fondness  shown 
her,  but  the  sympathy  was  wanting.  She  was  talked 
to,  but  not  with.     No  one  now  knew  always  what 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  425 

she  was  thinking  of,  nor  if  they  did  would  patiently 
draw  out  her  thoughts,  canvass  them,  set  them 
right  or  show  them  wrong.  No  one  now  could 
tell  what  she  was  feeling,  nor  had  the  art  sweetly, 
in  a  way  she  scarce  knew  how,  to  do  away  with 
sadness,  or  dullness,  or  perverseness,  and  leave 
her  spirits  clear  and  bright  as  the  noonday.  With 
all  the  petting  and  fondness  she  had  from  her 
new  friends,  Ellen  felt  alone.  She  was  petted  and 
fondled  as  a  darling  possession — a  dear  plaything 
— a  thing  to  be  cared  for,  taught,  governed,  dis- 
posed of,  with  the  greatest  affection  and  delight ; 
but  John's  was  a  higher  style  of  kindness,  that  en- 
tered into  all  her  innermost  feelings  and  wants; 
and  his  was  a  higher  style  of  authority,  too,  that 
reached  where  theirs  could  never  attain  ;  an  au- 
thority Ellen  always  felt  it  utterly  impossible  to 
dispute  ;  it  was  sure  to  be  exerted  on  the  side  01 
what  was  right ;  and  she  could  better  have  borne 
hard  words  from  Mr.  Lindsay  than  a  glance  of  her 
brother's  eye.  Ellen  made  no  objection  to  the 
imperativeness  of  her  new  guardians ;  it  seldom 
was  called  up  so  as  to  trouble  her,  and  she  was 
not  of  late  particularly  fond  of  having  her  own 
way ;  but  she  sometimes  drew  comparisons. 

"  I  could  not  any  sooner — I  could  not  as  soon — ■ 
have  disobeyed  John  ; — and  yet  he  never  would 
have  spoken  to  me  as  they  do  if  I  had." 

"  Some  pride  perhaps  ?  "  she  said,  remembering 
Mr.  Dundas's  words  ; — "  I  should  say  a  great  deal 
— John  isn't  proud  ; — and  yet — I  don't  know — he 
isn't  proud  as  they  are ;  1  wish  I  knew  what  kinds 
of  pride  are  right  and  what  wrong — he  would  tell 
me  if  he  was  here." 


426  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  What  are  you  in  a  '  brown  study '  about,  Ellen  ?* 
said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  I  was  thinking,  sir,  about  different  kinds  o£ 
pride — I  wish  I  knew  the  right  from  the  wrong— 
or  is  there  any  good  kind  ?  " 

•     "All  good,  Ellen — all  good,"  said  Mr.  lindsay; 
— "  provided  you  do  not  have  too  much  of  it." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  be  proud,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes."  said  he,  laughing  and  pinching  her  cheek, 
"  as  proud  as  you  like  ;  if  you  only  don't  let  me 
see  any  of  it." 

Not  very  satisfactory  ;  but  that  was  the  way  with 
the  few  questions  of  any  magnitude  Ellen  ventured 
to  ask  ;  she  was  kissed  and  laughed  at,  called  meta- 
physical or  philosophical,  and  dismissed  v.ith  no 
light  on  the  subject.  She  sighed  for  her  brother. 
The  hours  with  M.  Muller  were  the  best  substitute 
she  had;  they  were  dearly  prized  by  h;r,  and,  to 
say  tiuth,  by  him.  He  had  no  family,  he  lived 
al'  ne ;  and  the  visits  of  his  docile  and  intelligent 
little  pu-  il  became  very  pleasant  breaks  in  the 
monotony  of  his  home  life.  Truly  kind-hearted 
and  benevolent,  and  a  true  lover  of  knowledge,  he 
delighted  to  impart  it.  Ellen  soon  found  she  might 
ask  him  as  many  questions  as  she  pleased,  that 
were  at  all  proper  to  the  subject  they  were  upon  ; 
and  he,  amused  and  interested,  was  equally  able 
and  willing  to  answer  her.  Often  when  not  partic- 
ularly busy  he  allowed  her  hour  to  become  two. 
Excellent  hours  for  Ellen.  M.  Muller  had  made 
his  proposition  to  Mr.  Lindsay,  oartly  from  grate- 
ful regard  for  him,  and  partly  to  gratify  the  fancy 
he  had  taken  to  Ellen  on  account  of  her  simplicity, 
intelligence,  and  good   manners.     This  latter  mo- 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  427 

tive  did  not  disappoint  him.  He  grew  very  much 
attached  to  his  little  pUpil ;  an  attachment  which 
Ellen  faithfully  returned,  both  in  kind,  and  by 
every  trifling  service  that  it  could  fall  in  her  way 
to  render  him.  Fine  flowers  and  fruit,  that  it  was 
her  special  delight  to  carry  to  M.  Muller ;  little 
jobs  of  copying,  or  setting  in  order  some  disorderly 
matters  in  his  rooms,  where  he  soon  would  trust 
her  to  do  anything ;  or  a  book  from  her  father's 
library  ;  and  once  or  twice,  when  he  was  indisposed, 
reading  to  him,  as  she  did  by  the  hour  patiently, 
matters  that  could  neither  interest  nor  concern  her. 
On  the  whole,  and  with  good  reason,  the  days  when 
they  were  to  meet  were  hailed  with  as  much  pleas- 
ure perhaps  by  M.  Muller  as  by  Ellen  herself. 

Her  other  safeguard  was  the  precious  hour  alone 
which  she  had  promised  John  never  to  lose  when 
she  could  help  it.  The  only  time  she  could  have 
was  the  early  morning  before  the  rest  of  the  family 
were  up.  To  this  hour,  and  it  was  often  more  than 
an  hour,  Ellen  was  faithful.  Her  little  Bible  was 
extremely  precious  now ;  Ellen  had  never  gone  to 
it  with  a  deeper  sense  of  need ;  and  never  did  she 
find  more  comfort  in  being  able  to  disburden  her 
heart  in  prayer  of  its  load  of  cares  and  wishes. 
Never  more  than  now  had  she  felt  the  preciousness 
of  that  Friend  who  draws  closer  to  His  children 
the  closer  they  draw  to  him  ;  she  had  never  realized 
more  the  joy  of  having  Him  to  go  to.  It  was  her 
special  delight  to  pray  for  those  loved  ones  she 
could  do  nothing  else  for  ;  it  was  a  joy  to  t'hink  that 
He  who  hears  prayer  is  equally  present  with  all 
His  people,  and  that  though  thousands  of  miles  lie 
between  the  petitioner  and  the  petitioned-for,  the 


428  THE  WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

breath  of  prayer  may  span  the  distance  and  poul 
blessings  on  the  far-off  head.  The  burden  of 
thoughts  and  affections  gathered  during  the  twenty- 
three  hours  was  laid  down  in  the  twenty-fourth  ; 
and  Ellen  could  meet  her  friends  at  the  breakfast 
table  with  a  sunshiny  face.  Little  they  thought 
where,  her  heart  had  been,  or  where  it  had  got  its 
sunshine. 

But,  notwithstanding  this,  Ellen  had  too  much 
to  remember  and  regret  than  to  be  otherwise  than 
sober, — soberer  than  her  friends  liked.  They 
noticed  with  sorrow  that  the  sunshine  wore  off  as 
the  day  rolled  on  ; — that  though  ready  to  smile 
upon  occasion,  her  face  always  settled  again  into 
a  gravity  they  thought  altogether  unsuitable.  Mrs. 
Lindsay  fancied  she  knew  the  cause,  and  resolved 
to  break  it  up. 

From  the  first  of  Ellen's  coming  her  grandmother 
had  taken  the  entire  charge  of  her  toilet.  What- 
ever Mrs.  Lindsay's  notions  in  general  might  be 
as  to  the  propriety  of  young  girls  learning  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  Ellen  was  much  too  precious  a 
plaything  to  be  trusted  to  any  other  hands,  even 
her  own.  At  eleven  o'clock  regularly  every  day  she 
went  to  her  grandmother's  dressing-room  for  a  very 
elaborate  bathing  and  dressing ;  though  not  a  very 
long  one,  for  all  Mrs.  Lindsay's  actions  were  ener- 
getic. Now,  without  any  hint  as  to  the  reason,  she 
was  directed  to  come  to  her  grandmother  an  hour 
before  the  breakfast-time,  to  go  through  then  the 
course  of  cold-water,  sponging,  and  hair-gloving, 
that  Mrs.  Lindsay  was  accustomed  to  administer 
at  eleven.  Ellen  heard  in  silence,  and  obeyed,  but 
made  up  her  hour  by  rising  earlier  than  usual,  so 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


429 


as  to  have  it  before  going  to  her  grandmother.  It 
was  a  little  difficult  at  first,  but  she  soon  got  into 
the  habit  of  it,  though  the  mornings  were  dark  and 
cold.  After  a  while  it  chanced  that  this  came  to 
Mrs.  Lindsay's  ears,  and  Ellen  was  told  to  come 
to  her  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  bed  in  the  morning. 

"  But,  grandmother,"  said  Ellen, — "  I  am  up  a 
great  while  before  you  are ;  I  should  find  you 
asleep ;  don't  I  come  soon  enough  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  get  up  so  early  for  ?  " 

"  You  know,  ma'am — I  told  you  some  time  ago. 
I  want  some  time  to  myself." 

"  It  is  not  good  for  you  to  be  up  so  long  before 
breakfast,  and  in  these  cold  mornings.  Do  not  rise 
in  future  till  I  send  for  you." 

"  But,  grandmother, — that  is  the  only  time  for 
me — there  isn't  an  hour  after  breakfast  that  I  can 
have  regularly  to  myself ;  and  I  cannot  be  happy 
if  I  do  not  have  some  time." 

"  Let  it  be  as  I  said,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay,  smiling. 

"  Couldn't  you  let  me  come  to  you  at  eleven 
o'clock  again,  ma'am  ?  do,  grandmother  !  " 

Mrs.  Lindsay  touched  her  lips  ;  a  way  of  silenc- 
ing her  that  Ellen  particularly  disliked,  and  which 
both  Mr.  Lindsay  and  his  mother  were  accustomed 
to  use. 

She  thought  a  great  deal  on  the  subject,  and 
came  soberly  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  her  duty 
to  disobey.  "  I  promised  John,"  she  said  to  her- 
self,— "  I  will  never  break  that  promise  !  I'll  do 
anything  rather.  And  besides,  if  I  had  not,  it  is 
just  as  much  my  duty — a  duty  that  no  one  here 
has  a  right  to  command  me  against.  I  will  do  what 
I  think  right,  come  what  may." 


43  o  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

She  could  not  without  its  coming  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  her  grandmother.  A  week  or  two  aftel 
the  former  conversation  Mrs.  Lindsay  made  in- 
quiries of  Mason,  her  woman,  who  was  obliged  to 
confess  that  Miss  Ellen's  light  was  always  burning 
when  she  went  to  call  her. 

"  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay  the  same  day, — 
u  have  you  obeyed  me  in  what  I  told  you  the  other 
morning  ? — about  lying  in  bed  till  you  are  sent  for  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  You  are  frank !  to  venture  to  tell  me  so.  Why 
have  you  disobeyed  me  ?  " 

"  Because,  grandmother,  I  thought  it  was  right." 

"  You  think  it  is  right  to  disobey,  do  you  ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am,  if " 

"  If  what  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  grandmother,  there  is  One  I  must  obey 
even  before  you." 

"  If  what?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  Please  do  noc  ask  me,  grandmother ;  I  don't 
want  to  say  that." 

"  Say  it  at  once,  Ellen  !  " 

"  I  think  it  is  right  to  disobey  if  I  am  told  to 
do  what  is  wrong,"  said  Ellen  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Are  you  to  be  the  judge  of  right  and  wrong  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Who,  then  ?  " 

"  The  Bible." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  reason,"  said  Mrs. 
Lindsay,  "  that  I  cannot  be  very  angry  with  you. 
Ellen,  I  repeat  the  order  I  gave  you  the  other  day. 
Promise  me  to  obey  it." 

"  I  cannot,  grandmother  ;  I  must  have  that  hour; 
I  cannot  do  without  it." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  43 1 

"  So  must  I  be  obeyed,  I  assure  you,  Ellen.  You 
will  sleep  in  my  room  henceforth." 

Ellen  heard  her  in  despair  ;  she  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  Appealing  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 
There  was,  as  she  said,  no  time  she  could  count 
upon  after  breakfast.  During  the  whole  day 
and  evening  she  was  either  busy  with  her  studies 
or  masters,  or  in  the  company  of  her  grandmother 
or  Mr.  Lindsay  ;  and  if  not  there,  liable  to  be  called 
to  them  at  any  moment.  Her  grandmother's  expe- 
dient for  increasing  her  cheerfulness  had  marvelous 
ill  success.  Ellen  drooped  under  the  sense  of 
wrong,  as  well  as  the  loss  of  her  greatest  comfort. 
For  two  days  she  felt  and  looked  forlorn  ;  and 
smiling  now  seemed  to  be  a  difficult  matter.  Mr. 
Lindsay  happened  to  be  remarkably  busy  those 
two  days,  so  that  he  did  not  notice  what  was  going 
on.  At  the  end  of  them,  however,  in  the  evening, 
he  called  Ellen  to  him,  and  whisperingly  asked 
what  was  the  matter. 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  said  Ellen,  "  only  grandmother 
will  not  let  me  do  something  I  cannot  be  happy 
without  doing." 

"  Is  it  one  of  the  things  you  want  to  do  because 
it  is  right,  whether  it  is  convenient  or  not  ? "  he 
asked,  smiling.     Ellen  could  not  smile. 

"  Oh,  father,"  she  whispered,  putting  her  face 
close  to  his,  "  if  you  would  only  get  grandmother 
to  let  me  do  it !  " 

The  words  were  spoken  with  a  sob,  and  Mr. 
Lindsay  felt  her  warm  tears  upon  his  neck.  He 
had,  however,  far  too  much  respect  for  his  mother 
to  say  anything  against  her  proceedings  while  Ellen 
was  present ;  he  simply  answered  that  she  must  do 


432  THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

whatever  her  grandmother  said.  But  when  Ellen 
had  left  the  room,  which  she  did  immediately,  he 
took  the  matter  up.  Mrs.  Lindsay  explained,  and 
insisted  that  Ellen  was  spoiling  herself  for  life  and 
the  world  by  a  set  of  dull  religious  notions  that 
were  utterly  unfit  for  a  child  ;  that  she  would  very 
soon  get  over  thinking  about  her  habi£  of  morning 
prayer,  and  would  then  do  much  better.  Mr. 
Lindsay  looked  grave  ;  but  with  Ellen's  tears  yet 
wet  upon  his  cheek  he  could  not  dismiss  the  matter 
so  lightly,  and  persisted  in  desiring  that  his  mother 
should  give  up  the  point,  which  she  utterly  refused 
to  do. 

Ellen  meanwhile  had  fled  to  her  own  room.  The 
moonlight  was  quietly  streaming  in  through  the 
casement ;  it  looked  to  her  like  an  old  friend.  She 
threw  herself  down  on  the  floor,  close  by  the  glass, 
and  after  some  tears,  which  she  could  not  help 
shedding,  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  thought- 
fully out.  It  was  very  seldom  now  that  she  had  a 
chance  of  the  kind ;  she  was  rarely  alone  but  when 
she  was  busy. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  same  moon  is  this  minute 
shining  in  at  the  glass  door  at  home  ? — no,  to  be 
sure  it  can't  this  minute — what  am  I  thinking  of  ? 
— but  it  was  there  or  will  be  there — let  me  see — 
east — west — it  was  there  some  time  this  morning  I 
suppose  ;  looking  right  into  our  old  sitting-room. 

0  moon,  I  wish  I  was  in  your  place  for  once,  to 
look  in  there  too  !  But  it  is  all  empty  now — there's 
nobody  there — Mr.  Humphreys  would  be  in  his 
study — how  lonely,  how  lonely  he  must  be !     Oh, 

1  wish  I  was  back  there  with  him  ! — John  isn't  there 
though — no  matter — he  will  be, — and  I  could  do 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  433 

so  much  for  Mr.  Humphreys  in  the  meanwhile. 
He  must  miss  me.  I  wonder  where  John  is — - 
nobody  writes  to  me  ;  I  should  think  some  one 
might.  I  wonder  if  I  am  ever  to  see  them  again. 
Oh,  he  will  come  to  see  me  surely  before  he  goes 
home  ! — but  then  he  will  have  to  go  away  without 
me  again — I  am  fast  now — fast  enough — but  oh  ! 
am  I  to  be  separated  from  them  forever  ?  Well  1 
I  shall  see  them  in  heaven  !  " 

It  was  a  "  Well "  of  bitter  acquiescence,  and 
washed  down  with  bitter  tears. 

"  Is  it  my  bonny  Miss  Ellen  ? "  said  the  voice 
of  the  housekeeper,  coming  softly  in  ; — "  is  it  my 
bairn  sitting  a'  her  lane  i'  the  dark  ?  Why  are  ye 
no  wi'  the  rest  o'  the  folk,  Miss  Ellen  ? " 

"  I  like  to  be  alone,  Mrs.  Allen,  and  the  moon 
shines  in  here  nicely." 

"  Greeting ! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  drawing 
nearer, — "  I  ken  it  by  the  sound  o'  your  voice  ; — 
greeting  eenow !  Are  ye  no  weel,  Miss  Ellen  ? 
What  vexes  my  bairn  ?  Oh,  but  your  father  would 
be  vexed  an  he  kenned  it ! " 

"  Never  mind,  Mrs.  Allen,"  said  Ellen  :  "  I  shall 
get  over  it  directly;  don't  say  anything  about 
it." 

"  But  I'm  wae  to  see  ye,"  said  the  kind  old  woman, 
stooping  down  and  stroking  the  head  that  again 
Ellen  had  bowed  on  her  knees ;  "  will  ye  no  tell 
me  what  vexes  ye  ?  Ye  suld  be  as  blithe  as  a  bird 
the  lang  day." 

"  I  can't,  Mrs.  Allen,  while  I  am  away  from  my 
friends." 

"  Frinds  !  and  wha  has  mair  frinds  than  yourser, 
Miss  Ellen,  or  better  frinds  ? — father  and  mither 
28 


434  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

and  a' ;  where  wad  ye  find  thae  that  will  love  you 
mair  ?  " 

"  Ah,  but  I  haven't  my  brother  !  "  sobbed  Ellen. 

"Your  brither,  Miss  Ellen  ?     An'  wha's  he  ?  " 

"  He's  everything,  Mrs.  Allen  !  he's  everything  ! 
I  shall  never  be  happy  without  him  ! — never ! 
never  !  " 

"  Hush,  dear  Miss  Ellen  !  for  the  love  of  a'  that's 
gude  ; — dinna  talk  that  gate  !  and  dinna  greet  sae  ! 
your  father  wad  be  sair  vexed  to  hear  ye  or  to  see 
ye." 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  said  Ellen  ; — "it  is  true." 

"  It  may  be  sae ;  but,  dear  Miss  Ellen,  dinna  let 
it  come  to  your  father's  ken  ;  ye're  his  very  heart's 
idol ;  he  disna  merit  aught  but  gude  frae  ye." 

"  I  know  it,  Mrs.  Allen,"  said  Ellen,  weeping, 
"  and  so  I  do  love  him — better  than  anybody  in  the 
world,  except  two.  But  oh  !  I  want  my  brother  ! — 
I  don't  know  how  to  be  happy  or  good  either  without 
him.     I  want  him  all  the  while." 

"  Miss  Ellen,  I  kenned  and  loved  your  dear 
mither  weel  for  mony  a  day — will  ye  mind  if  I 
speak  a  word  to  her  bairn  ?  " 

"No,  dear  Mrs.  Allen — I'll  thank  you; — did  you 
know  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Wha  suld  if  I  didna  ?  she  was  brought  up  in 
my  arms,  and  a  dear  lassie.  Ye're  no  muckle  like 
her,  Miss  Ellen  ; — ye're  mair  bonny  than  her  ;  and 
no  a'thegither  sae  frack ; — though  she  was  douce 
and  kind  too-" 

"  I  wish "  Ellen  began,  and  stopped. 

"  My  dear  bairn,  there  is  Ane  abuve  wha  dis 
poses  a'  things  for  us  ;  and  He  isna  weel  pleased 
when    His  children  fash   themselves  wi'   His  di? 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  435 

pensations.  He  has  ta'en  and  placed  you  here,  for 
your  ain  gude  I  trust, — I'm  sure  it's  for  the  gude 
of  us  a', — and  if  ye  ha'ena  a'  things  ye  wad  wish, 
Miss  Ellen,  ye  ha'e  Him ;  dinna  forget  that,  my 
ain  bairn." 

Ellen  returned  heartily  and  silently  the  embrace 
of  the  old  Scotchwoman,  and  when  she  left  her, 
set  herself  to  follow  her  advice.  She  tried  to 
gather  her  scattered  thoughts  and  smooth  her 
ruffled  feelings,  in  using  this  quiet  time  to  the 
best  advantage.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she 
felt  like  another  creature  ;  and  began  to  refresh  her- 
self with  softly  singing  some  of  her  old  hymns. 

The  argument  which  was  carried  on  in  the  parlor 
sunk  at  length  into  silence  without  coming  to  any 
conclusion. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Ellen  ? "  Mrs.  Lindsay  asked 
of  a  servant  that  came  in. 

"  She  is  up  in  her  room,  ma'am,  singing." 

"  Tell  her  I  want  her." 

"  No — stop,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay  ; — "  I'll  go  my- 
self." 

Her  door  was  a  little  ajar,  and  he  softly  opened 
it  without  disturbing  her.  Ellen  was  still  sitting 
on  the  floor  before  the  window,  looking  out  through 
it,  and  in  rather  a  low  tone  singing  the  last  verse 
of  the  hymn  "  Rock  of  Ages." 

"  While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, — 
When  my  eyelids  close  in  death, — 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
And  behold  Thee  on  Thy  throne, — 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  !  " 

Mr.  Lindsay  stood  still  at  the  door.  Ellen  paused 
a  minute,  and  then  sung  "  Jerusalem,   my  happy 


436  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

home."  Her  utterance  was  so  distinct  that  he 
heard  every  word.  He  did  not  move  till  she  had 
finished,  then  he  came  softly  in. 

"  Singing  songs  to  the  moon,  Ellen  ?  " 

Ellen  started  and  got  up  from  the  floor. 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  was  singing  them  to  myself." 

"  Not  entirely,  for  I  heard  the  last  one.  Why 
do  you  make  yourself  sober  singing  such  sad 
things  ?  " 

"  I  don't,  sir ;  they  are  not  sad  to  me  ;  they  are 
delightful.     I  love  them  dearly.''' 

"  How  came  you  to  love  them  ?  it  is  not  natural 
for  a  child  of  your  age.  What  do  you  love  them 
for,  my  little  daughter  ? " 

"  Oh,  sir,  there  are  a  great  many  reasons, — I 
don't  know  how  many." 

"  I  will  have  patience,  Ellen  ;  I  want  to  hear 
them  all." 

"I  love  them  because  I  love  to  think  of  the 
things  the  hymns  are  about, — I  love  the  tunes,  dearly 
— and  I  like  both  the  words  and  the  tunes  better, 
I  believe,  because  I  have  sung  them  so  often  with 
friends." 

"  Humph  !  1  guessed  as  much.  Isn't  that  the 
strongest  reason  of  the  three  ? " 

"  1  don't  know,  sir ;  I  don't  think  it  is." 

"  Is  all  your  heart  in  America,  Ellen,  or  have  you 
any  left  to  bestow  on  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Not  very  much  !  " 

"  I  love  you,  father,"  said  Ellen,  laying  her  cheek 
gently  alongside  of  his. 

"  And  your  grandmother,  Ellen  ? "  said  Mr.  Lind- 
say, clasping  his  arms  round  her. 


THE  WIDE,    WIDE  WORLD.  437 

"Yes,  sir." 

But  he  well  understood  that  the  "  yes  *  was 
fainter. 

"  And  your  aunt  ? — speak,  Ellen." 

"  I  don't  love  her  as  much  as  I  wish  I  did,"  said 
Ellen ; — "  I  love  her  a  little,  I  suppose.  Oh,  why 
do  you  ask  me  such  a  hard  question,  father  ?  " 

"  That  is  something  you  have  nothing  to  do 
with,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  half  laughing.  "  Sit  down 
here,"  he  added,  placing  her  on  his  knee,  "  and 
sing  to  me  again." 

Ellen  was  heartened  by  the  tone  of  his  voice,  and 
pleased  with  the  request.  She  immediately  sang 
with  great  spirit  a  little  Methodist  hymn  she  had 
learned  when  a  mere  child.  The  wild  air  and  simple 
words  singularly  suited  each  other. 

"  O  Caanan — bright  Canaan — 

I  am  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan. 

0  Canaan !    it  is  my  happy,  happy  home — 

1  am  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan." 

"  Does  that  sound  sad,  sir  ? " 

"  Why,  yes, — I  think  it  does,  rather,  Ellen.  Does 
it  make  you  feel  merry  ?  " 

"  Not  merry,  sir, — it  isn't  merry  ;  but  I  like  it 
very  much." 

"  The  tune  or  the  words  ?  " 

"  Both,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  land  of  Canaan  ? " 

"  Heaven,  sir. " 

"  And  do  you  like  to  think  about  that  ? — at  your 
age  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  sir  !     Why  not  ? " 

"  Why  do  you  \  " 

n  Because  it  is  a  bright  and  happy  place,' '  said 


438  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen,  gravely  ; — "  where  there  is  no  darkness,  not 
sorrow  nor  death,  neither  pain  nor  crying  ;  and  my 
mother  is  there,  and  my  dear  Alice,  and  my  Saviour 
is  there  ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  there  too." 

"  You  are  shedding  tears  now,  Ellen." 

"  And  if  I  am,  sir,  it  is  not  because  I  am  unhappy. 
It  doesn't  make  me  unhappy  to  think  of  these  things 
— it  makes  me  glad  :  and  the  more  I  think  of  them 
the  happier  I  am." 

"  You  are  a  strange  child.  I  am  afraid  your 
grandmother  is  right,  and  that  you  are  hurting  your- 
self with  poring  over  serious  matters  that  you  are 
too  young  for." 

"  She  would  not  think  so  if  she  knew,"  said  Ellen, 
sighing.  "  I  should  not  be  happy  at  all  without 
that,  and  you  would  not  love  me  half  so  well,  nor 
she  either.  Oh,  father,"  she  exclaimed,  pressing 
his  hand  in  both  her  own  and  laying  her  face  upon 
it,  "  do  not  let  me  "be  hindered  in  that !  forbid  me 
anything  you  please,  but  not  that !  the  better  I  learn 
to  please  my  best  Friend  the  better  I  shall  please 
you." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  '  your  best  Friend  '  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  my  Redeemer." 

"  Where  did  you  get  these  notions  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Lindsay,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  From  my  mother,  first,  sir." 

"  She  had  none  of  them  when  I  knew  her." 

"  She  had  afterwards,  then,  sir  ;  and  oh  !  " — Ellen 
hesitated, — "  I  wish  everybody  had  them  too  !  " 

"  My  little  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  affection- 
ately kissing  the  cheeks  and  eyes,  which  were  moist 
again,  "  I  shall  indulge  you  in  this  matter.  But 
you  must  keep  your  brow  clear,  or  I  shall  revoke 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  439 

my  grant.  And  you  belong  to  me  now  ;  and  there 
are  some  things  I  want  you  to  forget,  and  not  re- 
member,— you  understand  ?  Now  don't  sing  songs 
to  the  moon  any  more  to-night,  my  daughter." 

"  They  think  religion  is  a  strange  melancholy 
thing,"  said  Ellen  to  herself  as  she  went  to  bed  ; 
— "  I  must  not  give  them  reason  to  think  so — I  must 
let  my  rushlight  burn  bright — I  must  take  care — I 
never  had  more  need  !  " 

And  with  an  earnest  prayer  for  help  to  do  so,  she 
laid  her  head  on  the  pillow. 

Mr.  Lindsay  told  his  mother  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  let  Ellen  have  her  way  for  a  while,  and 
begged  that  she  might  return  to  her  old  room  and 
hours  again.  Mrs.  Lindsay  would  not  hear  of  it. 
Ellen  had  disobeyed  her  orders,  she  said  ; — she 
must  take  the  consequences. 

"  She  is  a  bold  little  hussy,  to  venture  it,"  said 
Mr.  Lindsay, — "  but  I  do  not  think  there  is  any 
naughtiness  in  her  heart." 

"  No,  not  a  bit.  I  could  not  be  angry  with  her. 
It  is  only  those  preposterous  notions  she  has  got 
from  somebody  or  other." 

Mr.  Lindsay  said  no  more.  Next  morning  he 
asked  Ellen  privately  what  she  did  the  first  thing 
after  breakfast.  Practice  on  the  piano  for  an  hour, 
she  said. 

"  Couldn't  you  do  it  at  any  other  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  could  practice  in  the  afternoon,  only 
grandmother  likes  to  have  me  with  her." 

"  Let  it  be  done  then,  Ellen,  in  future." 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  with  the  hour  after  break 
fast,  sir  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  please,"  said  he,  smiling. 


440  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

Ellen  thanked  him  in  the  way  she  knew  he  best 
liked,  and  gratefully  resolved  he  should  have  as 
little  cause  as  possible  to  complain  of  her.  Very 
little  cause,  indeed,  did  he  or  any  one  else  have. 
No  fault  could  be  found  with  her  performance  of 
duty ;  and  her  cheerfulness  was  constant  and  un- 
varying. She  remembered  her  brother's  recipe 
against  loneliness  and  made  use  of  it ;  she  remem- 
bered Mrs.  Allen's  advice  and  followed  it  ;  she 
grasped  the  promises,  "  H:  thatcomethto  Me  shall 
never  hunger,"  and  "  Seek  and  ye  shall  find," — ■ 
precious  words  that  never  yet  disappointed  any 
one  ;  and  though  tears  might  often  fall  that  nobody 
knew  of,  and  she  might  not  be  so  merry  as  her 
friends  would  have  liked  to  see  her ;  though  her 
cheerfulness  was  touched  with  sobriety,  they  could 
not  complain  ;  for  her  brow  was  always  unruffled, 
her  voice  clear,  her  smile  ready. 

After  a  while  she  was  restored  to  her  own  sleep- 
ing-room again,  and  permitted  to  take  up  her  for- 
mer habits. 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Other  days  come  back  on  me 
With  recollected  music- 

Byron. 

Though  nothing  con  Id  be  smoother  than  the 
general  course  of  her  life,  Ellen's  principles  were 
still  now  and  then  severely  tried. 

Of  all  in  the  house,  next  to  Mr.  Lindsay,  she 
liked  the  company  of  the  old  housekeeper  best. 
She  was  a  simple-minded  Christian,  a  most  benevo- 
lent and  kind-hearted,  and  withal  sensible  and  re- 
spectable person  ;  devotedly  attached  to  the  family, 
and  very  fond  of  Ellen  in  particular,     Ellen  loved, 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


441 


when  she  could,  to  get  alone  with  her,  and  hear  her 
talk  of  her  mother's  young  days  ;  and  she  loved 
furthermore,  and  almost  as  much,  to  talk  to  Mrs. 
Allen  of  her  own.  Ellen  could  to  no  one  else  lisp 
a  word  on  the  subject ;  and  without  dwelling  di- 
rectly on  those  that  she  loved,  she  delighted  to 
tell  over  to  an  interested  listener  the  things  she  had 
done,   seen,  and  felt,  with  them. 

"  I  wish  that  child  was  a  little  more  like  other 
people,"  said  Lady  Keith  one  evening  in  the  latter 
end  of  the  winter. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay, — "  I  don't  re- 
member at  this  moment  any  one  that  I  think  she 
could  resemble  without  losing  more  than  she 
gained." 

"  Oh,  it's  of  no  use  to  talk  to  you  about  Ellen, 
brother !  You  can  take  up  things  fast  enough 
when  you  find  them  out,  but  you  never  will  see 
with  other  people's  eyes." 

"  What  do  your  eyes  see,  Catherine  ?  " 

"  She  is  altogether  too  childish  for  her  years  ; 
she  is  really  a  baby." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  smiling ; 
"  you  should  ask  M.  Muller  about  that.  He  was 
holding  forth  to  me  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the 
other  day,  and  could  not  stint  in  her  praises.  She 
will  go  on,  he  says,  just  as  fast  as  he  pleases  to 
take  her." 

"  Oh,  yes — in  intelligence  and  so  on,  I  know  she 
is  not  wanting ;  that  is  not  what  I  mean." 

"  She  is  perfectly  lady-like  always,"  said  Mrs 
Lindsay. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that, — and  perfectly  child-like 
too." 


442  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  like  that,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay ;  "  I  have  no 
fancy  for  your  grown-up  little  girls." 

"  Well !  "  said  Lady  Keith  in  despair,  "  you  may 
like  it ;  but  I  tell  you  she  is  too  much  of  a  child 
nevertheless, — in  other  ways.  She  hasn't  an  idea 
of  a  thousand  things.  It  was  only  the  other  day 
she  was  setting  out  to  go,  at  mid-day, — through  the 
streets  with  a  basket  on  her  arm — some  of  that 
fruit  for  M.  Muller  I  believe." 

"  If  she  has  any  fault,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  "  it  is 
want  of  pride, — but  I  don't  know — I  can't  say  I 
wish  she  had  more  of  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course !  I  suppose  not.  And  it 
doesn't  take  anything  at  all  to  make  the  tears  come 
in  her  eyes ;  the  other  day  I  didn't  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  be  vexed  at  the  way  she  went  on  with 
a  kitten,  for  half  an  hour  or  more.  I  wish  you  had 
seen  her !  I  am  not  sure  she  didn't  cry  over  that. 
Now  I  suppose  the  next  thing,  brother,  you  will  go 
and  make  her  a  present  of  one/' 

"  If  you  have  no  heavier  charges  to  bring,"  said 
Mr.  Lindsay,  smiling,  "  I'll  take  breath  and  think 
about  it." 

"  But  she  isn't  like  anybody  else, — she  don't 
care  for  young  companions, — she  don't  seem  to 
fancy  any  one  out  of  the  family  unless  it  is  old 
Mrs.  Allen,  and  she  is  absurd  about  her.  You 
know  she  is  not  very  well  lately,  and  Ellen  goes  to 
see  her  I  know  every  day,  regularly ;  and  there  are 
the  Gordons  and  Carpenters  and  Murrays  and 
Mclntoshes — she  sees  them  continually,  but  I  don't 
think  she  takes  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  their 
company.     The  fact  is,  she  is  too  sober." 

"  She   has   as   sweet  a  smile  as  I  ever  saw,"  said 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  443 

Mr.  Lindsay, — "  and  as  hearty  a  laugh,  when  she 
does  laugh ;  she  is  none  of  your  gigglers." 

"  But  when  she  does  laugh,"  said  Lady  Keith, 
"  it  is  not  when  other  people  do.  I  think  she  is 
generally  grave  when  there  is  most  merriment 
around  her." 

"  I  love  to  hear  her  laugh,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay ; 
"  it  is  in  such  a  low  sweet  tone,  and  seems  to  come 
so  from  the  very  spring  of  enjoyment.  Yet  I  must 
say  I  think  Catherine  is  half  right." 

"  With  half  an  advocate,"  said  Lady  Keith,  "  I 
shall  not  effect  much." 

Mr.  Lindsay  uttered  a  low  whistle.  At  this 
moment  the  door  opened,  and  Ellen  came  gravely 
in,  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 

"  Come  here,  Ellen,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  holding 
out  his  hand, — "  here's  your  aunt  says  you  don't 
like  anybody — how  is  it  ?  are  you  of  an  unsociable 
disposition  ?  " 

Ellen's  smile  would  have  been  a  sufficient  apology 
to  him  for  a  much  graver  fault. 

"  x\nybody  out  of  the  house,  I  meant,"  said  Lady 
Keith. 

"  Speak,  Ellen,  and  clear  yourself,"  said  Mr. 
Lindsay. 

"  I  like  some  people,"  said  Ellen,  smiling  ; — "  I 
don't  think  I  like  a  great  many  people  very  much." 

"  But  you  don't  like  young  people,"  said  Lady 
Keith, — "  that  is  what  I  complain  of ;  and  it's  un- 
natural. Now  there's  the  other  day,  when  you 
went  to  ride  with  Miss  Gordon  and  her  brother, 
and  Miss  MacPherson  and  her  brother — I  heard 
you  say  you  were  not  sorry  to  get  home.  Now 
where  will  you  find  pleasanter  young  people  ?  " 


444 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


"  Why  don't  you  like  them,  Ellen  ? "  said  Mr& 
Lindsay. 

'■  I  do  like  them,  ma'am,  tolerably." 

"  What  does  '  tolerably  '  mean  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  liked  my  ride  better  the  other 
day,"  said  Ellen,  "  if  they  had  talked  about  sensible 
things." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Lady  Keith.  "  Society 
cannot  be  made  up  of  M.  Mullers." 

"  What  did  they  talk  about,  Ellen  ? "  said  Mr. 
Lindsay,  who  seemed  amused. 

"  About  partners  in  dancing, — at  least  the  ladies 
did, — and  dresses,  and  different  gentlemen,  and 
what  this  one  said  and  the  other  one  said, — it 
wasn't  very  amusing  to  me." 

Mr.  Lindsay  laughed.  "  And  the  gentlemen, 
Ellen  ;  how  did  you  like  them  ?  " 

11 1  didn't  like  them  particularly,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  against  them,  Ellen  ? " 

"  I  don't  wish  to  say  anything  against  them, 
Aunt  Keith." 

"  Come,  come, — speak  out." 

"I  didn't  like  their  talking,  sir,  any  better  than 
the  ladies' ;  and  besides  that,  I  don't  think  they  are 
very  polite." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  highly  amused. 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  very  polite,"  said  Ellen, 
"  for  them  to  sit  still  on  their  horses  when  I  went 
out,  and  let  Brocklesby  help  me  to  mount.  They 
took  me  up  at  M.  Midler's,  you  know,  sir ;  M.  Muller 
had  been  obliged  to  go  out  and  leave  me." 

Mr.  Lindsay  thew  a  glance  at  his  sister  which 
she  rather  resented. 

"  And  pray  what  do  you  expect,  Ellen  ? "  said 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


445 


she.  "  You  are  a  mere  child — do  you  think  you 
ought  to  be  treated  as  a  woman  ? " 

"  I  don't  wish  to  be  treated  as  anything  but  a 
child,  Aunt  Keith." 

But  Ellen  remembered  well  one  day  at  home 
when  John  had  been  before  the  door  on  horseback 
and  she  had  run  out  to  give  him  a  message, — his 
instantly  dismounting  to  hear  it.  "  And  I  was 
more  a  child  then,"  she  thought, — "  and  he  wasn't 
a  stranger." 

"  Whom  do  you  like,  Ellen  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Lind- 
say, who  looked  extremely  satisfied  with  the  result 
of  the  examination. 

"  I  like  M.  Muller,  sir." 

"  Nobody  else  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Allen." 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Keith. 

"  Have  you  come  from  her  room  just  now  ? 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What's  your  fancy  for  going  there  ? " 

"  I  like  to  hear  her  talk,  sir,  and  to  read  to  her ; 
it  gives  her  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  ; — and  I  like 
to  talk  to  her." 

"  What  do  you  talk  about  ?  " 

"  She  talks  to  me  about  my  mother " 

"And  you  ?  " 

"  I  like  to  talk  to  her  about  old  times,"  said 
Ellen,  changing  color. 

"  Profitable  conversation  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  You  will  not  go  to  her  room  any  more,  Ellen," 
said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

In  great  dismay  at  what  Mrs.  Allen  would  think, 
Ellen  began  a  remonstrance.  But  only  one  word 
was  uttered  ;  Mr  Lindsay's  hand  was  upon  her  lips. 
He  next  took  the  book  she  still  held. 


446  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

"  Is  this  what  you  have  been  reading  to  her  ?" 

Ellen  bowed  in  answer. 

"  Who  wrote  all  this  ?  " 

Before  she  could  speak  he  had  turned  to  the 
front  leaf  and  read,  "  To  my  little  sister."  He 
quietly  put  the  book  in  his  pocket ;  and  Ellen  as 
quietly  left  the  room. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  said  that,'*'  said  Lady  Keith. 
"  You  are  quick  enough  when  you  see  anything  for 
yourself,  but  you  never  will  believe  other  people." 

"  There  is  nothing  wrong  here,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, 
— "  only  I  will  not  have  her  going  back  to  those 
old  recollections  she  is  so  fond  of.  I  wish  I  could 
make  her  drink  Lethe  !  " 

"  What  is  the  book  ? "  said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  I  hardiy  know,"  said  he,  turning  it  over, — "  ex- 
cept it  is  from  that  person  that  seems  to  have 
obtained  such  an  ascendency  over  her — it  is  full  of 
his  notes — it  is  a  religious  work." 

"  She  reads  a  great  deal  too  much  of  that  sort  of 
thing,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsay.  "  I  wish  you  would  con- 
trive to  put  a  stop  to  it.  You  can  do  it  better  than 
any  one  else  ;  she  is  very  fond  of  you." 

That  was  not  a  good  argument.  Mr.  Lindsay 
was  silent ;  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  conver- 
sation held  that  evening  in  Ellen's  room,  and  to 
certain  other  things  ;  and  perhaps  he  was  thinking 
that  if  religion  had  much  to  do  with  making  her 
what  she  was,  it  was  a  tree  that  bore  good  fruits. 

"  I  think,"  said  Lady  Keith,  "  that  is  one  reason 
why  she  takes  so  little  to  the  young  people  she  sees. 
I  have  seen  her  sit  perfectly  grave  when  they  were 
all  laughing  and  talking  around  her — it  really  looks 
singular — I    don't   like   it — I    presume    she   would 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  447 

have  thought  it  wicked  to  laugh  with  them.  And 
the  other  night ; — I  missed  her  from  the  younger 
part  of  the  company,  where  she  should  have  been, 
and  there  she  was  in  the  other  room  with  M.  Muller 
and  somebody  else, — gravely  listening  to  their  con- 
versation !  " 

"  I  saw  her,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  smiling, — "  and 
she  looked  anything  but  dull  or  sober.  I  would 
rather  have  her  gravity,  after  all,  Catherine,  than 
anybody  else's  merriment  I  know." 

"  I  wish  she  had  never  been  detained  in  America 
after  the  time  when  she  should  have  come  to  us," 
said  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"  I  wish  the  woman  had  what  she  deserves  that 
kept  back  the  letter  !  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  said  his  sister; — "and  I  have 
been  in  continual  fear  of  a  visit  from  that  very 
person  that  you  say  gave  Ellen  the  book." 

"  He  isn't  here  !  "  said  Mr.  Lindsay. 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  is ; — but  he  was  on  this 
side  of  the  water,  at  the  time  Ellen  came  on ;  so 
she  told  me." 

"  I  wish  he  was  in  Egypt !  " 

"  I  don't  intend  he  shall  see  her  if  he  comes," 
said  Lady  Keith,  "  if  I  can  possibly  prevent  it.  I 
gave  Porterfield  orders,  if  any  one  asked  for  her, 
to  tell  me  immediately,  and  not  her  upon  any 
account ;  but  nobody  has  come  hitherto,  and  I  am 
in  hopes  none  will." 

Mr.  Lindsay  rose,  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  with  folded  arms  in  a  very  thoughtful  style. 

Ellen  with  some  difficulty  bore  herself  as  usual 
throughout  the  next  day  and  evening,  though  con- 
stantly on  the  rack  to  get  possession   of  her  book 


448  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

again.  It  was  not  spoken  of  nor  hinted  at.  When 
another  morning  came  she  could  stand  it  no  longer ; 
she  went  soon  after  breakfast  into  Mr.  Lindsay's 
study,  where  he  was  writing.  Ellen  came  behind 
him  and  laying  both  her  arms  over  his  shoulders, 
said  in  his  ear, 

"  Will  you  let  me  have  my  book  again,  father  ?  " 

A  kiss  was  her  only  answer.      Ellen  waited. 

"  Go  to  the  bookcase,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  pres- 
ently, "  or  to  the  bookstore,  and  choose  out  any- 
thing you  like,  Ellen,  instead." 

"  I  wouldn't  exchange  it  for  all  that  is  in  them  !  " 
she  answered  with  some  warmth,  and  with  the 
husky  feeling  coming  in  her  throat  Mr.  Lindsay 
said  nothing. 

"  At  any  rate,"  whispered  Ellen,  after  a  minute, 
"  you  will  not  destroy  it,  or  do  anything  to  it  ? — you 
will  take  care  of  it  and  let  me  have  it  again,  won't 
you,  sir  ? " 

"  I  will  try  to  take  care  of  you,  my  daughter." 

Again  Ellen  paused  ;  and  then  came  round  in 
front  of  him  to  plead  to  more  purpose. 

"  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,  sir,"  she 
said,  earnestly,  "  if  you  will  give  me  my  book  again." 

"  You  must  do  anything  in  the  world  for  me," 
said  he,  smiling  and  pinching  her  cheeks, — "  with- 
out that." 

"  But  it  is  mine !  "  Ellen  ventured  to  urge, 
though  trembling. 

"  Come,  come  ! "  said  Mr.  Lindsay,  his  tone 
changing, — "  and  you  are  mine,  you  must  under- 
stand." 

Ellen  stood  silent,  struggling  between  the  alter- 
nate surgings  of  passion   and  checks  of  prudence 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  449 

and  conscience.  But  at  last  the  wave  rolled  too 
high  and  broke.  Clasping  her  hands  to  her  face,, 
she  exclaimed,  not  indeed  violently,  but  with  suffi» 
cient  energy  of  expression,  "  Oh,  it's  not  right ! — it's 
not  right  ! " 

"  Go  to  your  room  and  consider  of  that,"  said 
Mr.  Lindsay.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you  again  to- 
day, Ellen." 

Ellen  was  wretched.  Not  from  grief  at  her  loss 
merely  ;  that  she  could  have  borne ;  that  had  not 
even  the  greatest  share  in  her  distress  ;  she  was  at 
war  with  herself.  Her  mind  was  in  a  perfect  tur- 
moil. She  had  been  a  passionate  child  in  earlier 
days ;  under  religion's  happy  reign  that  had  long 
ceased  to  be  true  of  her ;  it  was  only  very  rarely* 
that  she  or  those  around  her  were  led  to  remember 
or  suspect  that  it  had  once  been  the  case.  She 
was  surprised  and  half-frightened  at  herself  now,  to 
find  the  strength  of  the  old  temper  suddenly  roused* 
She  was  utterly  and  exceedingly  out  of  humor  with 
Mr.  Lindsay,  and  consequently  with  everybody  and 
everything  else  ;  consequently,  conscience  would  not 
give  her  a  moment's  peace  ;  consequently,  that  day 
was  a  long  and  bitter  fight  betwixt  right  and  wrong* 
Duties  were  neglected,  because  she  could  not  give 
her  mind  to  them  ;  then  they  crowded  upon  her 
notice  at  undue  times  ;  all  was  miserable  confusion* 
In  vain  she  would  try  to  reason  and  school  herself 
into  right  feeling  ;  at  one  thought  of  her  lost  treas* 
lire  passion  would  come  flooding  up  and  drown  all 
her  reasonings  and  endeavors.  She  grew  absolutely 
weary. 

But  the  day  passed  and  the  night  came,  and  she 
went  to  bed  without  being  able  to  make  up  hQV 
29 


45  o  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

mind  ;  and  she  arose  in  the  morning  to  renew  the 
battle. 

"  How  long  is  this  miserable  condition  to  last  ?  " 
she  said  to  herself.  "  Till  you  can  entirely  give 
up  your  feeling  of  resentment,  and  apologize  to 
Mr.  Lindsay,"  said  conscience.  "  Apologize  ! — but 
I  haven't  done  wrong."  "  Yes,  you  have,"  said 
conscience  ;  "  you  spoke  improperly  ;  he  is  justly 
displeased  ;  and  you  must  make  an  apology  before 
there  can  be  any  peace."  "  But  I  said  the  truth — it 
is  not  right — it  is  not  right !  it  is  wrong  ;  and  am  /  to 
go  and  make  an  apology  ? — I  can't  do  it."  "  Yes, 
for  the  wrong  you  have  done,"  said  conscience, — 
"  that  is  all  your  concern.  And  he  has  a  right 
to  do  what  he  pleases  with  you  and  yours,  and  he 
may  have  his  own  reasons  for  what  he  has  done  ; 
and  he  loves  you  very  much,  and  you  ought  not  to 
let  him  remain  displeased  with  you  one  moment 
longer  than  you  can  help — he  is  in  the  place  of  a 
father  to  you,  and  you  owe  him  a  child's  duty." 

But  pride  and  passion  still  fought  against  reason 
and  conscience,  and  Ellen  was  miserable.  The 
dressing-bell  rang. 

"  There !  I  shall  have  to  go  down  to  breakfast 
directly,  and  they  will  see  how  I  look, — they  will 
see  I  am  angry  and  ill-humored.  Well,  I  ought  to 
be  angry !  But  what  will  they  think  then  of  my 
religion  ? — is  my  rushlight  burning  bright  ?  am  I 
honoring  Christ  now  ? — is  this  the  way  to  make  His 
name  and  His  truth  lovely  in  their  eyes  ?  Oh, 
shame  !  shame  ! — I  have  enough  to  humble  myself 
for.  And  all  yesterday,  at  any  rate,  they  know  I 
was  angry." 

Ellen  threw   herself  upon  her  knees  ;  and  when 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  4$i 

she  rose  up  the  spirit  of  pride  was  entirely  broken, 
and  resentment  had  died  with  self-justification. 

The  breakfast-bell  rang  before  she  was  quite 
ready.  She  was  afraid  she  could  not  see  Mr.  Lind- 
say until  he  should  be  at  the  table.  "  But  it  shall 
make  no  difference,"  she  said  to  herself, — "  they 
know  I  have  offended  him — it  is  right  they  should 
hear  what  I  have  to  say." 

They  were  all  at  the  table.  But  it  made  no 
difference.  Ellen  went  straight  to  Mr.  Lindsay, 
and  laying  one  hand  timidly  in  his  and  the  other 
on  his  shoulder,  she  at  once  humbly  and  frankly 
confessed  that  she  had  spoken  as  she  ought  not  the 
day  before,  and  that  she  was  very  sorry  she  had 
displeased  him,  and  begged  his  forgiveness.  It 
was  instantly  granted. 

"  You  are  a  good  child,  Ellen,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, 
as  he  fondly  embraced  her. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir  ! — don't  call  me  so — I  am  everything 
in  the  world  but  that." 

"  Then  all  the  rest  of  the  world  are  good  chil- 
dren.    Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  before  ?  " 

"  Because  I  couldn't,  sir  • — I  felt  wrong  all  day 
yesterday." 

Mr.  Lindsay  laughed  and  kissed  her,  and  bade 
her  sit  down  and  eat  her  breakfast. 

It  was  about  a  month  after  this  that  he  made 
her  a  present  of  a  beautiful  little  watch.  Ellen's 
first  look  was  of  great  delight ;  the  second  was  one 
of  curious,  doubtful  expression,  directed  to  his 
face,  half  tendering  the  watch  back  to  him  as  she. 
saw  that  he  understood  her. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  do  you  mean  to  say 
you  would  rather  have  that  than  this  ?" 


452 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 


"  A  great  deal !  " 

u  No,"  said  he,  hanging  the  watch  round  her  neck, 
— -"  you  shall  not  have  it ;  but  you  may  make  your 
mind  easy,  for  I  have  it  safe,  and  it  shall  come 
back  to  you  again  some  time  or  other." 

With  this  promise  Ellen  was  obliged  to  be  satis- 
fied. 

The  summer  passed  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  that 
wealth,  of  purse  and  of  affection  both,  could  bestow 
upon  their  darling.  Early  in  the  season  the  family 
returned  to  "  The  Braes."  Ellen  liked  it  there  much 
better  than  in  the  city  ;  there  was  more  that  remind- 
ed her  of  old  times.  The  sky  and  the  land,  though 
different  from  those  she  best  loved,  were  yet  but 
another  expression  of  nature's  face  ;  it  was  the  same 
face  still ;  and  on  many  a  sunbeam  Ellen  traveled 
across  the  Atlantic*  She  was  sorry  to  lose  M, 
Muller,  but  she  could  not  have  kept  him  in  Edin- 
burgh; he  quitted  Scotland  about  that  time. 

Other  masters  attended  her  in  the  country,  or  she 
went  to  Edinburgh  to  attend  them.  Mr.  Lindsay 
liked  that  very  well ;  he  was  often  there  himself, 
and  after  her  lesson  he  loved  to  have  her  with  him 
in  the  library  and  at  dinner  and  during  the  drive 
home.  Ellin  liked  it  because  it  was  so  pleasant  to 
him  :  and  besides,  there  was  a  variety  about  it,  and 
the  drives  were  always  her  delight,  and  she  chose 
his  company  at  any  time  rather  than  that  of  her 
aunt  and  grandmother.  So,  many  a  happy  day 
that  summer  had  she  and  Mr.  Lindsay  together  ; 
and  many  an  odd  pleasure  in  the  course  of  them 
did  he  find  or  make  for  her.  Sometimes  it  was  a 
new  book,  sometimes  a  new  sight,  sometimes  a  new 

*  "  Then  by  a  sunbeam  I  will  climb  to   thee." — George  Herbert. 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  453 

trinket.  According  to  his  promise,  he  had  pur- 
chased her  a  fine  horse;  and  almost  daily  Ellen 
was  upon  his  back,  and  with  Mr.  Lindsay  in  the 
course  of  the  summer  scoured  the  country  far  and 
near.  Every  scene  of  any  historic  interest  within 
a  good  distance  of  "  The  Braes  "  was  visited,  and 
some  of  them  again  and  again.  Pleasures  of  all 
kinds  were  at  Ellen's  disposal  ;  and  to  her  father 
and  grandmother  she  was  truly  the  light  of  their 
eyes. 

And  Ellen  was  happy;  but  it  was  not  all  these 
things,  nor  even  her  affection  for  Mr.  Lindsay,  that 
made  her  so.  He  saw  her  calm,  sunshiny  face  and 
busy,  happy  demeanor,  and  fancied,  though  he  had 
sometimes  doubts  about  it,  that  she  did  not  trouble 
herself  much  with  old  recollections,  or  would  in 
time  get  over  them.  It  was  not  so.  Ellen  never 
forgot ;  and  sometimes  when  she  seemed  busiest 
and  happiest,  it  was  the  thought  of  an  absent  and 
distant  friend  that  was  nerving  her  energies  and 
giving  color  to  her  cheek.  Still,  as  at  first,  it  was 
in  her  hour  alone  that  Ellen  laid  down  care  and 
took  up  submission  ;  it  was  that  calmed  her  brow 
and  brightened  her  smile.  And  though  now  and 
then  she  shed  bitter  tears,  and  repeated  her  despair- 
ing exclamation,  "  Well  !  I  will  see  him  in  heaven  !  " 
— in  general  she  lived  on  hope,  and  kept  at  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  some  of  her  old  feeling  of  con- 
fidence. 

Perhaps  her  brow  grew  somewhat  meeker  and 
her  smile  less  bright  as  the  year  rolled  on.  Months 
flew  by,  and  brought  her  no  letters.  Ellen  mar- 
veled and  sorrowed  in  vain.  One  day  mourning 
over  it  to  Mrs.  Allen,  the  good  housekeeper  asked 


454  THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

her  if  her  friends  knew  her  address  ?  Ellen  at  first 
said  "to  be  sure,"  but  after  a  few  minutes'  reflec- 
tion was  obliged  to  confess  that  she  was  not  certain 
about  it.  It  would  have  been  just  like  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys to  lose  sight  entirely  of  such  a  matter,  and 
very  natural  for  her,  in  her  grief  and  confusion  of 
mind  and  inexperience,  to  be  equally  forgetful. 
She  wrote  immediately  to  Mr.  Humphreys  and  sup- 
plied the  defect ;  and  hope  brightened  again. 
Once  before  she  had  written,  on  the  occasion  of 
the  refunding  her  expenses.  Mr.  Lindsay  and  his 
mother  were  very  prompt  to  do  this,  though  Ellen 
could  not  tell  what  the  exact  amount  might  be ; 
they  took  care  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  and  sent  more 
than  enough.  Ellen's  mind  had  changed  since  she 
came  to  Scotland  ;  she  was  sorry  to  have  the  money 
go  ;  she  understood  the  feeling  with  which  it  was 
sent,  and  it  hurt  her. 

Two  or  three  months  after  the  date  of  her  last 
letter,  she  received  at  length  one  from  Mr.  Hum- 
phreys, a  long,  very  kind,  and  very  wise  one.  She 
lived  upon  it  for  a  good  while.  Mr.  Lindsay's  bills 
were  returned.  Mr.  Humphreys  declined  utterly 
to  accept  of  them,  telling  Ellen  that  he  looked  upon 
her  as  his  own  child  up  to  the  time  that  her  friends 
took  her  out  of  his  hands,  and  that  he  owed  her 
more  than  she  owed  him.  Ellen  gave  the  money, 
she  dared  not  give  the  whole  message,  to  Mr. 
Lindsay.  The  bills  were  instantly  and  haughtily 
re-enclosed  and  sent  back  to  America. 

Still  nothing  was  heard  from  Mr.  John.  Ellen 
wondered,  waited,  wept ;  sadly  quieted  herself  into 
submission,  and  as  time  went  on,  clung  faster  and 
faster  to  her  Bible  and  the  refuge  she  found  there. 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  455 


CHAPTER  LII. 

Hon. — Why  didn't  you  show  him  up,  blockhead  ? 
Butler. — Show  him  up,  sir  ?     With  all  my  heart,  sir. 
Up  or  down,  all's  one  to  me. 

GOOD-NATORBD   MAW. 

One  evening,  it  was  New  Year's  eve,  a  large 
party  was  expected  at  Mr.  Lindsay's.  Ellen  was 
not  of  an  age  to  go  abroad  to  parties,  but  at  home 
her  father  and  grandmother  never  could  bear  to  do 
without  her  when  they  had  company.  Generally 
Ellen  liked  it  very  much  ;  not  called  upon  to  take 
any  active  part  herself,  she  had  leisure  to  observe 
and  enjoy  in  quiet;  and  often  heard  music,  and 
often  by  Mr.  Lindsay's  side  listened  to  conversation, 
in  which  she  took  great  pleasure.  To-night,  how- 
ever, it  happened  that  Ellen's  thoughts  were  run- 
ning on  other  things  ;  and  Mrs.  Lindsay's  woman, 
who  had  come  in  to  dress  her,  was  not  at  all  satis- 
fied with  her  grave  looks  and  the  little  concern  she 
seemed  to  take  in  what  was  going  on. 

"  I  wish,  Miss  Ellen,  you'd  please  hold  your  head 
up,  and  look  somewhere — I  don't  know  when  I'll 
get  your  hair  done  if  you  keep  it  down  so." 

"  Oh,  Mason,  I  think  that'll  do — it  looks  very 
well — you  needn't  do  anything  more." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Ellen,  but  you  know 
it's  your  grandmother  that  must  be  satisfied,  and 
she  will  have  it  just  so  ;  there, — now — that's  going  to 
look  lovely  ; — but  indeed,  Miss  Ellen,  she  won't 
be  pleased  if  you  carry  such  a  soberish  face  down- 
stairs,— and  what  will  the  master  say  !  Most  young 
ladies  would  be  as  bright  as  a  bee  at  being  going 


456  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

to  see  so  many  people,  and,  indeed,  it's  what  yo* 
should." 

"  I  had  rather  see  one  or  two  persons  than  one 
or  two  hundred,"  said  Ellen,  speaking  half  to  her- 
self and  half  to  Mrs.  Mason. 

"Well,  for  pity's  sake,  Miss  Ellen,  dear,  if  you 
can,  don't  look  as  it  was  a  funeral  it  was.  There  ! 
'tain't  much  trouble  to  fix  you,  anyhow — if  you'd 
only  care  a  little  more  about  it,  it  would  be  a  bless- 
ing. Stop  till  I  fix  this  lace.  The  master  will  call 
you  his  white  rose-bud  to-night,  sure  enough." 

"  That's  nothing  new,"  said  Ellen,  half  smiling. 

Mason  left  her ;  and  feeling  the  want  of  something 
to  raise  her  spirits,  Ellen  sorrowfully  went  to  her 
Bible,  and  slowly  turning  it  over,  looked  along  its 
pages  to  catch  a  sight  of  something  cheering  before 
she  went  downstairs. 

"  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever :  He  will 
be  our  guide  even  unto  death" 

"  Isn't  that  enough  ? "  thought  Ellen,  as  hei 
eyes  filled  in  answer.  "  It  ought  to  be — John 
would  say  it  was — oh  !  where  is  he  ?  " 

She  went  on  turning  over  leaf  after  leaf. 

"  O  Lord  of  hosts,  blessed  is  the  man  that  t?'usteth 
in  Thee!" 

"  That  is  true,  surely,"  she  thought.  "  And  I  do 
trust  in  Him — I  am  blessed — I  am  happy,  come 
what  may.  He  will  let  nothing  come  to  those  that 
trust  in  Him  but  what  is  good  for  them — if  He  is 
my  God  I  have  enough  to  make  me  happy — I  ought 
to  be  happy,  I  will  be  happy  ! — I  will  trust  Him, 
and  take  what  He  gives  me ;  and  try  to  leave,  as 
John  used  to  tell  me,  my  affairs  in  His  hand." 

For  a  minute  tears  flowed  ;  then  they  were  wiped 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  457 

away ;  and  the  smile  she  gave  Mr.  Lindsay  when 
she  met  him  in  the  hall  was  not  less  bright  than 
usual. 

The  company  were  gathered,  but  it  was  still 
early  in  the  evening,  when  a  gentleman  came  who 
declined  to  enter  the  drawing-room,  and  asked  for 
Miss  Lindsay. 

"  Miss  Lindsay  is  engaged.'* 

"  An'  what  for  suld  ye  say  sae,  Mr.  Porterfield  ?" 
cried  the  voice  of  the  housekeeper,  who  was  pass- 
ing in  the  hall, — "  when  ye  ken  as  weel  as  I  do  that 
Miss  Ellen " 

The  butler  stopped  her  with  saying  something 
about  "  my  lady,"  and  repeated  his  answer  to  the 
gentleman. 

The  latter  wrote  a  word  or  two  on  a  card  which 
he  drew  from  his  pocket,  and  desired  him  to  carry 
it  to  Miss  Ellen.     He  carried  it  to  Lady  Keith. 

"  What  sort  of  a  person,  Porterfield?  "  said  Lady 
Keith,  crumpling  the  paper  in  her  fingers ;  and 
withdrawing  a  little  from  the  company. 

"  Uncommon  fine  gentleman,  my  lady,"  Porter- 
field answered  in  a  low  tone. 

"  A  gentleman  ?  "  said  Lady  Keith,  inquiringly. 

"  Certain,  my  lady  ! — and  as  up  and  down  spoken 
as  if  he  was  a  prince  of  the  blood ;  he's  somebody 
that  is  not  accustomed  to  be  said  '  no  '  to,  for 
sure." 

Lady  Keith  hesitated.  Recollecting,  however, 
that  she  had  just  left  Ellen  safe  in  the  music-room, 
she  made  up  her  mind,  and  desired  Porterfield  to 
show  the  stranger  in.  As  he  entered,  unannounced, 
her  eyes  unwillingly  verified  the  butler's  judgment ; 
and  to  the  inquiry   whether   he   might   see    Miss 


458  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

Lindsay  she  answered  very  politely,  though  with 
regrets,  that  Miss  Lindsay  was  engaged. 

"  May  I  be  pardoned  for  asking,"  said  the  stran- 
ger, with  the  slightest  possible  approach  to  a  smile, 
"  whether  that  decision  is  imperative  ?  I  leave 
Scotland  to-morrow — my  reasons  for  wishing  to 
see  Miss  Lindsay  this  evening  are  urgent." 

Lady  Keith  could  hardly  believe  her  ears,  or 
command  her  countenance  to  keep  company  with 
her  expressions  of  "  sorrow  that  it  was  impossible 
— Miss  Lindsay  could  not  have  the  pleasure  that 
evening." 

"  May  I  beg,  then,  to  know  at  what  hour  I  may 
hope  to  see  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

Hastily  resolving  that  Ellen  should  on  the  mor- 
row accept  a  long-given  invitation,  Lady  Keith 
answered  that  she  would  nut  be  in  town — she  would 
leave  Edinburgh  at  an  early  hour. 

The  stranger  bowed  and  withdrew  ;  that  was  all 
the  by-standers  saw.  But  Lady  Keith,  who  had 
winced  under  an  eye  that  she  could  not  help  fancy- 
ing read  her  too  well,  saw  that  in  his  parting  look 
which  made  her  uneasy ;  beckoning  a  servant  who 
stood  near,  she  ordered  him  to  wait  upon  that  gen- 
tleman to  the  door. 

The  man  obeyed ;  but  the  stranger  did  not  take 
his  cloak,  and  made  no  motion  to  go. 

"  No,  sir !  not  that  way,"  he  said,  sternly,  as  the 
servant  laid  his  hand  on  the  lock  ; — "  show  me  to 
Miss  Lindsay  !  " 

"  Miss  Ellen  ?  "  said  the  man,  doubtfully,  com- 
ing back,  and  thinking  from  the  gentleman's  man- 
ner that  he  must  hive  misunderstood  Lady  Keith; 
— "  where  is  Miss  Ellen,  Arthur?  " 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  459 

The  person  addressed  threw  his  head  back  to- 
wards the  door  he  had  just  come  from  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hall. 

"  This  way  sir,  if  you  please, — what  name,  sir  ? " 

"  No  name — stand  back  !  "  said  the  stranger,  as 
he  entered. 

There  were  a  number  of  people  gathered  round 
a  lady  who  was  at  the  piano  singing.  Ellen  was 
there  in  the  midst  of  them.  The  gentleman  ad- 
vanced quietly  to  the  edge  of  the  group  and  stood 
there  without  being  noticed ,  Ellen's  eyes  were 
bent  on  the  floor.  The  expression  of  her  face 
touched  and  pleased  him  greatly  ;  it  was  precisely 
what  he  wished  to  see.  Without  having  the  least 
shadow  of  sorrow  upon  it  there  was  in  all  its  lines 
that  singular  mixture  of  gravity  and  sweetness 
that  is  never  seen  but  where  religion  and  disci- 
pline have  done  their  work  well ;  the  writing  of  the 
wisdom  that  looks  soberly,  and  the  love  that  looks 
kindly  on  all  things.  He  was  not  sure  at  first 
whether  she  were  intently  listening  to  the  music, 
or  whether  her  mind  was  upon  something  far  differ- 
ent and  far  away ;  he  thought  the  latter.  He  was 
right.  Ellen  at  the  moment  had  escaped  from  the 
company  and  the  noisy  sounds  of  the  performer  at 
her  side  ;  and  while  her  eye  was  curiously  tracing 
out  the  pattern  of  the  carpet,  her  mind  was  resting 
itself  in  one  of  the  verses  she  had  been  reading 
that  same  evening.  Suddenly,  and,  as  it  seemed, 
from  no  connection  with  anything  in  or  out  of  her 
thoughts,  there  came  to  her  mind  the  image  of 
John  as  she  had  seen  him  that  first  evening  she 
ever  saw  him,  at  Carra-carra,  when  she  looked  up 
from  the  boiling  chocolate  and  espied  him, — stand- 


460  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

ing  in  an  attitude  of  waiting  near  the  door.  Ellen 
at  first  wondered  how  that  thought  should  have 
come  into  her  head  just  then  ;  the  next  moment, 
from  a  sudden  impulse,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  search 
for  the  cause,  and  saw  John's  smile. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  describe  the  change  in 
Ellen's  face.  Lightning  makes  as  quick  and  as 
brilliant  an  illumination,  but  lightning  does  not 
stay.  With  a  spring  she  reached  him,  and  seizing 
both  his  hands  drew  him  out  of  the  door  near 
which  they  were  standing  ;  and  as  soon  as  they 
were  hidden  from  view  threw  herself  into  his  arms 
in  an  agony  of  joy.  Before,  however,  either  of  them 
could  say  a  word,  she  had  caught  his  hand  again, 
and  led  him  back  along  the  hall  to  the  private 
staircase  ;  she  mounted  it  rapidly  *to  her  room ; 
and  there  she  again  threw  herself  into  his  arms, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh,  John  ! — my  dear  John  !  my  dear 
brother !  " 

But  neither  smiles  nor  words  would  do  for  the 
overcharged  heart.  The  tide  of  joy  ran  too  strong, 
and  too  much  swelled  from  the  open  sources  of 
love  and  memory,  to  keep  any  bounds.  And  it 
kept  none.  Ellen  sat  down,  and,  bowing  her  head 
on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  wept  with  all  the  vehement 
passion  of  her  childhood,  quivering  from  head  to 
foot  with  convulsive  sobs.  John  might  guess  from 
the  outpouring  now  how  much  her  heart  had  been 
secretly  gathering  for  months  past.  For  a  little 
while  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room ;  but  this 
excessive  agitation  he  was  not  willing  should  con- 
tinue. He  said  nothing;  sitting  down  beside  Ellen 
on  the  sofa,  he  quietly  possessed  himself  of  one  of 
her  hands ;  and  when  in  her  excitement  the  hand 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD,  46  J 

struggled  to  get  away  again,  it  was  not  permitted. 
Ellen  understood  that  very  well  and  immediately 
checked  herself.  Better  than  words,  the  calm  firm 
grasp  of  his  hand  quieted  her.  Her  sobbing  stilled  ; 
she  turned  from  the  arm  'of  the  sofa,  and  leaning 
her  head  upon  him,  took  his  hand  in  both  hers 
and  pressed  it  to  her  lips  as  if  she  were  half  beside 
herself.  But  that  was  not  permitted  to  last  either; 
for  his  hand  quickly  imprisoned  hers  again.  There 
was  silence  still.  Ellen  could  not  look  up  yet,  and 
neither  seemed  very  forward  to  speak ;  she  sat 
gradually  quieting  down  into  fullness  of  happiness. 

"  I  thought  you  never  would  come,  John,"  at 
length  Ellen  half  whispered,  half  said. 

"  And  I  cannot  stay  now.  I  must  leave  you  to 
morrow,  Ellen." 

Ellen  started  up  and  looked  up  now. 

"  Leave  me  ?  For  how  long  ?  Where  are  you 
going  ? " 

"Home." 
•     "To  America  !  " — Ellen's  heart  died  within  her. 

Was  this  the  end  of  all  her  hopes  ?  did  her  con- 
fidence end  here  ?  She  shed  no  tears  now.  He 
could  see  that  she  grew  absolutely  still  from  in- 
tense feeling. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Ellie  ?  "  said  the  low  gentle 
tones  she  so  well  remembered  ; — "  I  am  leaving 
you  but  for  a  time.  I  must  go  home  now,  but  if  I 
live  you  will  see  me  again." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  going  with  you  !  "  Ellen  ex- 
claimed, bursting  into  tears. 

"  My  dear  Ellie  !  " — said  her  brother,  in  an  al- 
tered voice,  drawing  her  again  to  his  arms, — "  yo» 
cannot  wish  it  more  than  I  1 " 


462  THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD. 

"  I  never  thought  you  would  leave  me  here^ 
John." 

"  Neither  would  I,  if  I  could  help  it ; — neither 
will  I  a  minute  longer  than  I  can  help ;  but  we 
must  both  wait,  my  own  Ellie.  Do  not  cry  so,  for 
my  sake  !  " 

"Wait? — till  when?"  said  Ellen,  not  a  little 
reassured. 

"  I  have  no  power  now  to  remove  you  from  your 
legal  guardians,  and  you  have  no  right  to  choose 
for  yourself." 

"  And  when  shall  I  ?  " 

"  In  a  few  years." 

"  A  few  years  ! — But  in  the  mean  time,  John, 
what  shall  I  do  without  you  ? — If  I  could  see  you 
once  in  a  while — but  there  is  no  one*  here — not  a 
single  one — to  help  me  to  keep  right ;  no  one  talks 
to  me  as  you  used  to  ;  and  I  am  all  the  while  afraid 
I  shall  go  wrong  in  something  ; — what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"What  the  weak  must  always  do,  Ellie, — seek 
for  strength  where  it  may  be  had." 

"  And  so  I  do,  John,"  said  Ellen,  weeping, — "  but 
I  want  you — oh,  how  much  !  " 

"  Are  you  not  happy  here  ?  " 

"  Yes — I  am  happy — at  least  I  thought  I  was  half 
an  hour  ago, — as  happy  as  I  can  be.  I  have  every- 
thing to  make  me  happy,  except  what  would  do  it." 

"  We  must  both  have  recourse  to  our  old  remedy 
against  sorrow  and  loneliness — you  have  not  for- 
gotten the  use  of  it,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  No,  John,"  said  Ellen,  meeting  his  eyes  with  a 
tearful  smile. 

"  They  love  you  here,  do  they  not  ?  " 

"  Very  much — too  much." 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  463 

"  And  you  love  them  ? " 

«5  Yes." 

"  That's  a  doubtful  <  yes.'  " 

"  I  do  love  my  father — very  much  ;  and  my 
grandmother  too,  though  not  so  much.  I  cannot 
help  loving  them, — they  love  me  so.  But  they 
are  so  unlike  you  ! " 

"  That  is  not  much  to  the  purpose,  after  all,'* 
said  John,  smiling.  "  There  are  varieties  of  excel- 
lence in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  that  isn't  what  I  mean  ;  it  isn't  a 
variety  of  excellence.  They  make  me  do  every- 
thing that  they  have  a  mind, — I  don't  mean,"  she 
added,  smiling,  "  that  that  is  not  like  you, — but 
you  always  had  a  reason  ;  they  are  different.  My 
father  makes  me  drink  wine  every  now  and  then, 
— I  don't  like  to  do  it,  and  he  knows  I  do  not,  and 
I  think  that  is  the  reason  I  have  to  do  it." 

"  That  is  not  a  matter  of  great  importance,  Ellie, 
provided  they  do  not  make  you  do  something 
wrong." 

"  They  could  not  do  that,  I  hope  ;  and  there  is 
another  thing  they  cannot  make  me  do." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Stay  here  when  you  will  take  me  away." 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  thoughtful  pause  on 
both  sides. 

"You  are  grown,  Ellie,"  said  John, — "you  are 
not  the  child  I  left  you." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellen,  smiling, — "  it  seems 
to  me  I  am  just  the  same." 

"  Let  me  see — look  at  me  !  " 

She  raised  her  face,  and  amidst  smiles  and  tears 
its  look  was  not  less  clear  and  frank  than  his  was 


464  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

penetrating.  "Just  the  same,"  was  the  verdict  o. 
her  brother's  eyes  a  moment  afterwards.  Ellen's 
smile  grew  bright  as  she  read  it  there. 

"  Why  have  you  never  come  or  written  before, 
John  ?  " 

"I  did  not  know  where  you  were.  I  have  no 
been  in  England  for  many  months  till  quite  lately, 
and  I  could  not  get  your  address.  I  think  my 
father  was  without  it  for  a  long  time,  and  when  at 
last  he  sent  it  to  me,  the  letter  miscarried — never 
reached  me — there  were  delays  upon  delays." 

*'  And  when  you  did  get  it  ?  " 

*'  I  preferred  coming  to  writing." 

**  And  now  you  must  go  home  so  soon  ! " 

"  I  must,  EUie.  My  business  has  lingered  on  a 
great  while,  and  it  is  quite  time  I  should  return. 
I  expect  to  sail  next  week — Mrs.  Gillespie  is  going 
with  me — her  husband  stays  behind  till  spring." 

Ellen  sighed. 

"  I  made  a  friend  of  a  friend  of  yours  whom  I 
met  in  Switzerland  last  summer — M.  Muller." 

"  M.  Muller  !  did  you  ?  Oh,  I'm  very  glad  !  I 
am  very  glad  you  know  him — he  is  the  best  friend  I 
have  got  here,  after  my  father.  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  have  done  without  him." 

"  I  have  heard  him  talk  of  you,"  said  John,  smiling. 

"  He  has  just  come  back ;  he  was  to  be  here 
this  evening." 

There  was  a  pause  again. 

"  It  does  not  seem  right  to  go  home  without 
you,  Ellie,"  said  her  brother,  then.  "  I  think  you 
belong  to  me  more  than  to  anybody." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  think  ! "  said  Ellen,  with 
one  of   her  bright   looks,  and   then  bursting   into 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  465 

tears  ; — "  I  am  very  glad  you  think  so  too  !  I  will 
always  do  whatever  you  tell  me — just  as  I  used  to 
— no  matter  what  anybody  else  says." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  try  you  in  two  or  three  things, 
Ellie." 

"  Will  you?  in  what?  Oh,  it  would  make  me 
so  happy — so  much  happier — if  I  could  be  doing 
something  to  please  you.  I  wish  I  was  at  home 
with  you  again !  " 

"  I  will  bring  that  about,  Ellie,  by  and  by,  if  you 
make  your  words  good." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  then,"  said  Ellen,  her  old  con- 
fidence standing  stronger  than  ever, — "  because  I 
know  you  will  if  you  say  so.  Though  how  you 
will  manage  it  I  cannot  conceive.  My  father  and 
grandmother  and  aunt  cannot  bear  to  hear  me 
speak  of  America  ,  I  believe  they  would  be  glad  if 
there  wasn't  such  a  place  in  the  world.  They 
would  not  even  let  me  think  of  it  if  they  could  help 
it ;  I  never  dare  mention  your  name,  or  say  a  word 
about  old  times.  They  are  afraid  of  my  loving 
anybody,  I  believe.  They  want  to  have  me  all  to 
themselves." 

"  What  will  they  say  to  you  then,  Ellie,  if  you 
leave  them  to  give  yourself  to  me  ? " 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  replied  Ellen, — "  they  must 
say  what  they  please ;  " — and  with  abundance  of 
energy,  and  not  a  few  tears,  she  went  on  : — "  I 
love  them,  but  I  had  given  myself  to  you  a  great 
while  ago  ;  long  before  I  was  his  daughter,  you 
called  me  your  little  sister — I  can't  undo  that,  John, 
and  I  don't  want  to— it  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  dif- 
ference that  we  were  not  born  so  !  " 

John  suddenly  rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
3° 


466  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD 

down  the  room.  Ellen  soon  came  to  his  side,,  and 
leaning  upon  his  arm  as  she  had  been  used  to  do 
in  past  times,  walked  up  and  down  with  him,  at 
first  silently. 

"What  is  it  you  wanted  me  to  do,  John  ?  "  she  said, 
gently,  at  length  ; — "  you  said  '  two  or  three  things.'  " 

"  One  is  that  you  keep  up  a  regular  and  full 
correspondence  with  me." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  will  let  me  do  that,"  said 
Ellen, — "  that  is  exactly  what  I  should  like,  but " 

"  What  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  they  will  not  let  me." 

"  I  will  arrange  that." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Ellen,  joyously, — "  then  it  will 
do.  Oh,  it  would  make  me  so  happy  !  And  you 
will  write  to  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly  J  " 

"  And  I  will  tell  you  everything  about  my- 
self ;  and  you  will  tell  me  how  I  ought  to  do  in  all 
sorts  of  things  ?  that  will  be  next  best  to  being 
with  you.     And  then  you  will  keep  me  right." 

"  I  won't  promise  you  that,  Ellie,"  said  John, 
smiling  ; — "  you  must  learn  to  keep  yourself  right.* 

"  I  know  you  will,  though,  however  you  may 
smile.     What  next  ?  " 

"  Read  no  novels." 

"  I  never  do,  John.  I  knew  you  did  not  like  it, 
and  I  have  taken  good  care  to  keep  out  of  the  way 
of  them.  If  I  had  told  anybody  why,  though,  they 
would  have  made  me  read  a  dozen." 

"Why,  Ellie  !  "  said  her  brother, — "you  must 
need  some  care  to  keep  a  straight  line  where  your 
course  lies  now." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  John,"  said  Ellen,  her  eyes  filling 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  467 

with  tears, — "  oh,  how  I  have  felt  that  sometimes ! 
And  then  how  I  wanted  you  ! " 

Her  hand  was  fondly  taken  in  his,  as  many  a  time 
it  had  been  of  old,  and  for  a  long  time  they  paced 
up  and  down  ;  the  conversation  running  sometimes 
in  the  strain  that  both  loved  and  Ellen  now  never 
heard ;  sometimes  on  other  matters ;  such  a  con- 
versation as  those  she  had  lived  upon  in  former 
days,  and  now  drank  in  with  a  delight  and  eagerness 
inexpressible.  Mr.  Lindsay  would  have  been  in 
dismay  to  have  seen  her  uplifted  face,  which, 
though  tears  were  many  a  time  there,  was  sparkling 
and  glowing  with  life  and  joy  in  a  manner  he  had 
never  known  it.  She  almost  forgot  what  the  morrow 
would  bring,  in  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  the  instant, 
and  hung  upon  every  word  and  look  of  her  brother 
as  if  her  life  were  there. 

"And  in  a  few  weeks,"  said  Ellen,  at  length, 
"you  will  be  in  our  dear  old  sitting-room  again, 
and  riding  on  the  Black  Prince  !  and  I  shall  be 
here  ! — and  it  will  be " 

"  It  will  be  empty  without  you,  Ellie  ; — but  we 
have  a  Friend  that  is  sufficient;  let  us  love  Him 
and  be  patient." 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  be  patient,"  murmured  Ellen. 
"But,  dear  John,  there  was  something  else  you 
wanted  me  to  do  ?  what  is  it  ?  you  said  *  two  or 
three'  things." 

"  I  will  leave  that  to  another  time. 

"  But  why  ?  I  will  do  it  whatever  it  be — pray 
tell  me." 

"No,"  said  he,  smiling, — "not  now, — you  shall 
know  by  and  by — the  time  is  not  yet.  Have  you 
heard  of  your  old  friend,  Mr.  Van  Brunt  ?  " 


468  THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 

"  No— what  of  him  ? " 

"He  has  come  out  before  the  world  as  a  Chris* 
tian  man." 

"  Has  he  ? " 

John  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  opened  it. 

"  You  may  see  what  my  father  says  of  him  ;  and 
what  he  says  of  you  too,  Ellie ; — he  has  missed 
you  much." 

"  Oh,  I  was  afraid  he  would,"  said  Ellen, — "  I 
was  sure  he  did  !  " 

She  took  the  letter,  but  she  could  not  see  the 
words.  John  told  her  she  might  keep  it  to  read  at 
her  leisure. 

"  And  how  are  they  all  at  Ventnor  ?  And  how  is 
Mrs.  Vawse  ?  and  Margery  ?  " 

"  All  well.  Mrs.  Vawse  spends  about  half  her 
time  at  my  father's." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that !  " 

"  Mrs.  Marshman  wrote  me  to  bring  you  back 
with  me  if  I  could,  and  said  she  had  a  home  for 
you  always  at  Ventnor." 

**  How  kind  she  is,"  said  Ellen ; — "  how  many 
friends  I  find  everywhere.  It  seems  to  me,  John, 
that  everybody  almost  loves  me." 

"That  is  a  singular  circumstance  !  However,  I 
am  no  exception  to  the  rule,  Ellie." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,"  said  Ellen,  laughing.     "  And 
Mr.  George  ? " 
*  "  Mr.  George  is  well." 

"  How  much  I  love  him  !  "  said  Ellen.  "  How 
much  I  would  give  to  see  him  !  I  wish  you  could 
tell  me  about  poor  Captain  and  the  Brownie,  but  I 
don't  suppose  you  have  heard  of  them.  Oh,  when 
I  think  of  it  all  at  home,  how  I  want  to  be  there  I 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  469 

— Oh,  John  !  sometimes  lately  I  have  almost 
thought  I  should  only  see  you  again  in  heaven." 

"  My  dear  Ellie  !  I  shall  see  you  there,  I  trust ; 
but  if  we  live  we  shall  spend  our  lives  here  together 
first.  And  while  we  are  parted  we  will  keep  as 
near  as  possible  by  praying  for  and  writing  to  each 
other.  And  what  God  orders  let  us  quietly  sub- 
mit to." 

Ellen  had  much  ado  to  command  herself  at  the 
tone  of  these  words  and  John's  manner,  as  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  brow  and 
lips.  She  strove  to  keep  back  a  show  of  feeling 
that  would  distress  and  might  displease  him.  But 
the  next  moment  her  fluttering  spirits  were  stilled 
by  hearing  the  few  soft  words  of  a  prayer  that  he 
breathed  over  her.  It  was  a  prayer  for  her  and 
for  himself,  and  one  of  its  petitions  was  that  they 
might  be  kept  to  see  each  other  again.  Ellen 
wrote  the  words  on  her  heart. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  " 

He  showed  his  watch. 

"  Well,  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Shall  you  be  here  ?  " 

"  Certainly — where  else  should  I  be  ?  What 
time  must  you  set  out  ?  " 

"  I  need  not  till  afternoon,  but How  early 

can  I  see  you  ?  " 

"  As  early  as  you  please.  Oh,  spend  all  the 
time  with  me  you  can,  John  !  " 

So  it  was  arranged. 

"And  now,  Ellie,  you  must  go  downstairs  and 
present  me  to  Mr.  Lindsay." 

"  To  my  father  !  " 

For  a  moment  Ellen's  face  was  a  compound  of 


47  o  THE   WIDE,   WIDE  WORLD. 

expressions.  She  instantly  acquiesced,  however, 
and  went  down  with  her  brother,  her  heart,  it  must 
be  confessed,  going  very  pit-a-pat  indeed.  She  took 
him  into  the  library,  which  was  not  this  evening 
thrown  open  to  company,  and  sent  a  servant  for 
Mr.  Lindsay.  While  waiting  for  his  coming,  Ellen 
felt  as  if  she  had  not  the  fair  use  of  her  senses. 
Was  that  John  Humphreys  quietly  walking  up  and 
down  the  library  ? — Mr.  Lindsay's  library  ? — and 
was  she  about  to  introduce  her  brother  to  the  per- 
son who  had  forbidden  her  to  mention  his  name  ? 
There  was  something,  however,  in  Mr.  John's  figure 
and  air,  in  his  utter  coolness,  that  insensibly  re- 
stored her  spirits.  Triumphant  confidence  in  him 
overcame  the  fear  of  Mr.  Lindsay;  and  when  he 
appeared,  Ellen  with  tolerable  composure  met  him, 
her  hand  upon  John's  arm,  and  said,  "  Father,  this 
is  Mr.  Humphreys," — my  brother  she  dared  not 
add. 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Lindsay  will  pardon  my  giving  him 
this  trouble,"  said  the  latter ; — u  we  have  one  thing 
in  common  which  trouble  should  forbid  our  being 
strangers  to  each  other.  I,  at  least,  was  unwilling 
to  leave  Scotland  without  making  myself  known  to 
Mr.  Lindsay." 

Mr.  Lindsay  most  devoutly  wished  the  "  thing 
in  common  "  had  been  anything  else.  He  bowed, 
and' was  "  happy  to  have  the  pleasure,"  but  evi- 
dently neither  pleased  nor  happy.  Ellen  could  see 
that. 

"  May  I  take  up  five  minutes  of  Mr.  Lindsay's 
time  to  explain,  perhaps  to  apologize,"  said  John, 
slightly  smiling, — "  for  what  I  have  said  ? " 

A  little  ashamed,  it  might  be,  to  have  his  feeling 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD.  471 

suspected,  Mr.  Lindsay  instantly  granted  the  re< 
quest,  and  politely  invited  his  unwelcome  guest  to 
be  seated.  Obeying  a  glance  from  her  brother 
which  she  understood,  Ellen  withdrew  to  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  room,  where  she  could  not  hear 
what  they  said.  John  took  up  the  history  of  Ellen's 
acquaintance  with  his  family,  and  briefly  gave  it  to 
Mr.  Lindsay,  scarce  touching  upon  the  benefits 
by  them  conferred  on  her,  and  skillfully  dwelling 
rather  on  Ellen  herself  and  setting  forth  what  she 
had  been  to  them.  Mr.  Lindsay  could  not  be  un- 
conscious of  what  his  visitor  delicately  omitted  to 
hint  at,  neither  could  he  help  making  secretly  to 
himself  some  most  unwilling  admissions;  and 
though  he  might  wish  the  speaker  at  the  antipodes, 
and  doubtless  did,  yet  the  sketch  was  too  happily 
given,  and  his  fondness  for  Ellen  too  great,  for  him. 
not  to  be  delightedly  interested  in  what  was  said 
of  her.  And  however  strong  might  have  been  his 
desire  to  dismiss  his  guest  in  a  very  summary  man- 
ner, or  to  treat  him  with  haughty  reserve,  the  grace- 
ful dignity  of  Mr.  Humphrey's  manners  made  either 
expedient  impossible.  Mr.  Lindsay  felt  con- 
strained to  meet  him  on  his  own  ground — the 
ground  of  high-bred  frankness  ;  and  grew  secretly 
still  more  afraid  that  his  real  feelings  should  be 
discerned. 

Ellen,  from  afar,  where  she  could  not  hear  the 
words,  watched  the  countenances  with  great  anx- 
iety and  great  admiration.  She  could  see  that 
while  her  brother  spoke  with  his  usual  perfect  ease, 
Mr.  Lindsay  was  embarrassed.  She  half  read  the 
truth.  She  saw  the  entire  politeness  where  she 
also  saw  the  secret  discomposure,  and  she  felt  that 


472  THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

the  politeness  was  forced  from  him.  As  the  con< 
versation  went  on,  however,  she  wonderingly  saw 
that  the  cloud  on  his  brow  lessened, — she  saw  him 
.even  smile ;  and  when  at  last  they  rose,  and  she 
drew  near,  she  almost  thought  her  ears  were  play- 
ing her  false  when  she  heard  Mr.  Lindsay  beg  her 
brother  to  go  in  with  him  to  the  company  and  be 
presented  to  Mrs.  Lindsay.  After  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation this  invitation  was  accepted,  and  they  went 
together  into  the  drawing-room. 

Ellen  felt  as  if  she  was  in  a  dream.  With  a  face 
as  grave  as  usual,  but  with  an  inward  exultation 
and  rejoicing  in  her  brother  impossible  to  describe, 
she  saw  him  going  about  among  the  company, — 
talking  to  her  grandmother, — yes,  and  her  grand- 
mother did  not  look  less  pleasant  than  usual, — rec- 
ognizing M.  Muller,  and  in  conversation  with  other 
people  whom  he  knew.  With  indescribable  glee 
Ellen  saw  that  Mr.  Lindsay  managed  most  of  the 
time  to  be  of  the  same  group.  Never  more  than 
that  night  did  she  triumphantly  think  that  Mr.  John 
could  do  anything.  He  finished  the  evening  there. 
Ellen  took  care  not  to  seem  too  much  occupied 
with  him ;  but  she  contrived  to  be  near  when  he 
was  talking  with  M.  Muller,  and  to  hang  upon  her 
father's  arm  when  he  was  in  Mr.  John's  neighbor- 
hood. And  when  the  latter  had  taken  leave,  and 
was  in  the  hall,  Ellen  was  there  before  he  could  be 
gone.  And  there  came  Mr.  Lindsay  too  behind 
her! 

11  You  will  come  early  to-morrow  morning,  John  ? " 

"  Come  to  breakfast,  Mr.  Humphreys,  will  you  ? n 
said  Mr.  Lindsay,  with  sufficient  cordiality. 

But  Mr.  Humphreys  declined  this  invitation,  in 


THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD. 


473 


spite  of  the  timid  touch  of  Ellen's  fingers  upon  his 
arm,  which  begged  for  a  different  answer. 

"  I  will  be  with  you  early,  Ellie,"  he  said,  how- 
ever. 

"  And  oh  !  John,"  said  Ellen  suddenly,  "  order  a 
horse  and  let  us  have  one  ride  together ;  let  me 
show  you  Edinburgh." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Lindsay, — "  let  us 
show  you  Edinburgh ;  but  order  no  horses,  Mr, 
Humphreys,  for  mine  are  at  your  service." 

Ellen's  other  hand  was  gratefully  laid  upon  her 
father's  arm  as  this  second  proposal  was  made  and 
accepted. 

"  Let  us  show  you  Edinburgh,"  said  Ellen  to  her- 
self, as  she  and  Mr.  Lindsay  slowly  and  gravely 
went  back  through  the  hall.  "  So  !  there  is  an  end 
of  my  fine  morning ! — But,  however,  how  foolish  I 
am !  John  has  his  own  ways  of  doing  things — he 
can  make  it  pleasant  in  spite  of  everything." 

She  went  to  bed,  not  to  sleep,  indeed,  for  a  long 
time,  but  to  cry  for  joy  and  all  sorts  of  feelings  at 
once. 

Good  came  out  of  Evil,  as  it  often  does,  and  as 
Ellen's  heart  presaged  it  would  when  she  arose  the 
next  morning.  The  ride  was  preceded  by  half  an 
hour's  chat  between  Mr.  John,  Mr.  Lindsay,  and 
her  grandmother ;  in  which  the  delight  of  the  even- 
ing before  was  renewed  and  confirmed.  Ellen  was 
obliged  to  look  down  to  hide  the  too  bright  satis- 
faction she  felt  was  shining  in  her  face.  She  took 
no  part  in  the  conversation,  it  was  enough  to  hear. 
She  sat  with  charmed  ears,  seeing  her  brother  over- 
turning all  her  father's  and  grandmother's  preju- 
dices, and  making  his  own  way  to  their  respect  at 


474  W&   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD. 

least,  in  spite  of  themselves.  Her  marveling  still 
almost  kept  even  pace  with  her  joy.  "  I  knew  he 
would  do  what  he  pleased,"  she  said  to  herself, — ■ 
"  I  knew  they  could  not  help  that ;  but  I  did  not 
dream  he  would  ever  make  them  like  him, — that  I 
never  dreamed  ! " 

On  the  ride  again,  Ellen  could  not  wish  that  her 
father  were  not  with  them.  She  wished  for  noth- 
ing; it  was  all  a  maze  of  pleasure,  which  there  was 
nothing  to  mar  but  the  sense  that  she  would  by  and 
by  wake  up  and  find  it  was  a  dream.  And  no,  not 
that  either.  It  was  a  solid  good  and  blessing, 
which,  though  it  must  come  to  an  end,  she  should 
never  lose.  For  the  present  there  was  hardly 
anything  to  be  thought  of  but  enjoyment.  She 
shrewdly  guessed  that  Mr.  Lindsay  would  have  en- 
joyed it  too,  but  for  herself ;  there  was  a  little  con- 
straint about  him  still,  she  could  see.  There  was 
none  about  Mr.  John ;  in  the  delight  of  his  words 
and  looks  and  presence,  Ellen  half  the  time  forgot 
Mr.  Lindsay  entirely ;  she  had  enough  of  them ; 
she  did  not  for  one  moment  wish  that  Mr.  Lindsay 
had  less. 

At  last  the  long  beautiful  ride  came  to  an  end ; 
and  ^he  rest  of  the  morning  soon  sped  away, 
though,  as  Ellen  had  expected,  she  was  not  permit- 
ted to  spend  any  part  of  it  alone  with  her  brother. 
Mr.  Lindsay  asked  him  to  dinner,  but  this  was 
declined. 

Not  till  long  after  he  was  gone  did  Ellen  read 
Mr.  Humphreys'  letter.  One  bit  of  it  may  be 
given. 

"  Mr.  Var»  Brunt  has  lately  joined  our  little 
church.     This  has  given  me  great  pleasure.     He 


THE   WIDE,  WIDE   WORLD.  475 

had  been  a  regular  attendant  for  a  long  time  be- 
fore. He  ascribes  much  to  your  instrumentality ; 
but  says  his  first  thoughts  (earnest  ones)  on  the 
subject  of  religion  were  on  the  occasion  of  a  tear 
that  fell  from  Ellen's  eye  upon  his  hand  one  day 
when  she  was  talking  to  him  about  the  matter.  He 
never  got  over  the  impression.  In  his  own  words, 
'  it  scared  him  !  '  That  was  a  dear  child  !  I  did 
not  know  how  dear  till  I  had  lost  her.  I  did  not 
know  how  severely  I  should  feel  her  absence  ;  nor 
had  I  the  least  notion  when  she  was  with  us  of 
many  things  respecting  her  that  I  have  learnt  since. 
I  half  hoped  we  should  yet  have  her  back,  but  that 
will  not  be.     I  shall  b^  filau  co  see  you,  my  son." 

The  correspondence  with  John  was  begun  im- 
mediately, and  was  the  delight  of  Ellen's  life. 
Mrs.  Lindsay  and  her  daughter  wished  to  put  a 
stop  to  it ;  but  Mr.  Lindsay  dryly  said  that  Mr. 
Humphreys  had  frankly  spoken  of  it  before  him, 
and  as  he  had  made  no  objection  then  he  could  not 
now. 

Ellen  puzzled  herself  a  little  to  think  what  could 
be  the  third  thing  John  wanted  of  her;  but  what- 
ever it  were,  she  was  very  sure  she  would  do  it ! 

For  the  gratification  of  those  who  are  never  sat- 
isfied, one  word  shall  be  added,  to  wit,  that : 

The  seed  so  early  sown  in  little  Ellen's  mind,  and 
so  carefully  tended  by  sundry  hands,  grew  in  course 
of  time  to  all  the  fair  stature  and  comely  perfection 
it  had  bid  fair  to  reach — storms  and  winds  that  had 
visited  it  did  but  cause  the  root  to  take  deeper 
hold ; — and  at  the  point  of  its  young  maturity  it 
happily  fell  again  into  those  hands  that  had  of  all 
been   most    successful   in   its   culture. — In    other 


476  THE   WIDE,    WIDE   WORLD. 

words,  to  speak  intelligibly,  Ellen  did  in  nowise 
disappoint  her  brother's  wishes,  nor  he  hers. 
Three  or  four  more  years  of  Scottish  discipline 
wrought  her  no  ill  ;  they  did  but  serve  to  temper 
and  beautify  her  Christian  character  ;  and  then,  to 
her  unspeakable  joy,  she  went  back  to  spend  her 
life  with  the  friends  and  guardians  she  best  loved, 
and  to  be  to  them,  still  more  than  she  had  been  to 
her  Scottish  relations,  the  "  light  of  the  eyes." 


THE    END. 


